Final Chess Piece
by Hitokiri-san
Summary: AU. When Kenshin enrolled to Tsutoki High in search of a normal life, he didn't expect serial murders to be part of his schoolife, or to be used as a decisive chess piece in the war of two opposing forces.
1. Pretense

**Final Chess Piece by Hitokiri-san**

**A/N: Hi folks! This is my first attempt at a high school AU fic, written partly to break the writer's block in my other story, Past and Future. Anyway, this story is made to be dark and angsty, bending to the Action/Adventure genre. High school fic as it is, do not expect too many "normal" school problems - love triangles, late homework submissions, detentions etc. As I've said, this is a dark fic. Okay...on with the story!**

* * *

_Is it that hard trying to be a normal student for once? Is it that hard trying to convince them that I'm not plotting evil plots, or conspiring wicked conspiracies, behind their backs?_

_I, Himura Kenshin, just want to be a normal high school student; to get a feel of what normal life is like._

* * *

**Ch1 Pretense**

**_Tsutoki High, Kyoto, Japan._**

"Stand up, Himura."

Kenshin could hear Saitou's deep, slightly menacing voice across the gymnasium - taunting him, daring him to retaliate, to fight back against the vicious assaults.

Daring him to show what he really was.

Yet, he would do no such thing - it was taking all his discipline not to dodge or block his teacher's repeated blows, but he kept the impulses in check; concentrating, instead, on keeping up his pretense, to remain the fragile, defenseless high school pupil he had convinced himself to be.

_Himura Kenshin has neither skill nor talent in kenjutsu._

"Hai, Fujita-sensei." The redhead got unsteadily to his feet, swaying visibly. To anyone, he seemed as if he were on the verge of collapse - features bruised, hair in complete disarray, shoulders hunched in defeat. Saitou, however, was not going to let it pass that easily. He hefted his shinai onto his shoulder, smirking down on the minute redhead in front of him, who was gasping for precious breath.

"If you couldn't lay a blow on me in the next round, Himura, I'm giving you a zero in P.E."

Saitou Hajime watched in satisfaction as the student gritted his teeth, a venomous, almost lethal look crossing his features before his face reverted to the mild, fearful look he had always worn. So, he had struck a nerve. Kenshin, being a top student in his class, had always got through his exams with flying colors. Wouldn't it be...ah...a little _embarrassing _if he actually got a zero in sports? Not a failure, mind you, but a _zero_. Well, that could be fun.

* * *

Kenshin wanted to kill him. 

Of all the time he'd spent on keeping his grades up, he was going to get a _zero _in sports because of this bastard. The thing that irked him most was that he could easily have beaten the bastard senseless and salvaged his grade with a mere flick of his bokken; and here he was, trying to act as if he didn't know anything about swords. The bokken wasn't his favourite weapon, but still...he could have murdered someone with it. Especially when that someone was Saitou.

He took a deep breath, trying desperately to calm his raging emotions. "Fujita-sensei, I really don't know how to fight!" he objected, feigning mild indignity. _Himura Kenshin is a mild, weak-willed character,_ he reminded himself.

"Sou ka. If that is so..." Saitou ignored his protest, whirling around to retrieve something perched on a stand. A real katana. Unsheathing it - and tossing his shinai away carelessly, he pointed it at Kenshin, who flinched in real earnest - acting was no longer required. "I'll have to give you an extra lesson. A boy needs to know how to defend himself, ne?" he added helpfully, then smirked.

Kenshin only had half a second to mentally curse his sensei before Saitou came lunging at him, katana in hand.

A thrust at his heart, a horizontal slash to his throat, a swipe at the mid-section. The redheaded student shouted in horror; scrambling clumsily away from each attack, failing miserably at his attempts. Saitou withdrew his blade only at the last moments; the sword always touching his student's skin, but never harming the flesh within.

The youth saw each attack coming, and would have deflected each with his bokken, had he not understood what Saitou was trying to do. The man was forcing him to recognize the fatal danger, to instinctively protect himself with the bokken. Kenshin felt a flutter of fear each time he felt the katana contacting with his bare skin ?fearing that Saitou had finally discovered who he was, and was killing him for it.

Despite all this, he never raised the bokken once. He continued backing away, betting that the lanky teacher would not kill him for earnest.

_"Always remember, baka deishi. Never let anyone know of your skills with the katana. Never use a sword in the school area. Protect yourself only in the direst of circumstances. Even so, you'll have to kill whoever saw you fight._

_Never let anyone know you're the former Battousai, if you really want to live a normal life."_

His shishou had told that to him seriously, his dark eyes deprived of the usual arrogance and teasing note. And shishou had always planned for his sake. He knew what the consequence would be if his identity was discovered, way before he enrolled into the school ?and he had enrolled anyway. The desire to lead a normal life of a school kid had motivated him, blocking out the fear of all possible hazards.

He would even die for a normal life. And now, it seemed, he was literally _dying _for a normal life.

A solid structure behind him informed the young redhead that he had backed into the gymnasium wall. His amethyst eyes darted to Saitou ?who widened his smirk, and promptly sank into a Gatotsu stance.

_Darn, he's coming for real._

Kenshin angled his bokken, preparing to defend at a moment's notice if the wolf was bent on taking his life. Could he make it look as if he blocked the Gatotsu by accident?

Yeah, he snorted at himself. As if Saitou Hajime's Gatotsu could be blocked by sheer accident. He stole a glance at the bokken he held in hand. Was it worth the risk?

A shocked, youthful voice, however, saved him from the dilemma.

* * *

"Saitou-sensei!" an almost hysteric tone froze both sensei and student in place. The speaker turned his head, recognizing the figure stranded against the wall. "Himura-san!" 

Saitou flicked his wrist, re-sheathing the katana before turning a hard glare at the intruder. Himura was satisfied to see disappointment playing in those hazel eyes.

"What are you doing here, Seta? School ended three hours ago." Saitou's bark caused the intruder to recoil abruptly. Indeed, school had ended long ago. It was now six o'clock at night; through the gymnasium windows, one could see the darkening sky beyond.

Seta Soujiro offered a faint, nervous smile. "Excuse me, sir, I left my sports bag in the gymnasium..."

Saitou cut him off in mid-sentence. "Get it. In case you don't know, Seta, you've interrupted my make-up lesson with Himura."

"Gomen nasai, sensei!" Soujiro responded immediately, casting a sympathetic look in his fellow classmate's way. Some make-up lesson that was.

"And since this lesson is disrupted, Himura..." his piercing gaze went Kenshin's way, "you may go now. But I want to see you here at the same time tomorrow ?unless you want to get a zero in your sports." There went that insufferable smirk again.

Kenshin growled under his breath.

* * *

"ITAI!" 

"Gomen ne, Himura-san!" Soujiro ceased dabbing the ointment onto his classmate's face as the redhead winced in pain. It was an evil, bluish bruise - one that would stay on his cheek for a week, maybe more.

Not to mention the numerous welts and contusions Saitou managed to inflict on him...

"Tell me, Himura-san, what have you done that Fujita-sensei wants to kill you so badly?" the younger student frowned uncharacteristically, attacking the bruise again with a wet cotton ball. "You haven't been dating Tokio-san behind his back, I hope?" He added helpfully, as an afterthought.

Kenshin rolled his eyes. That would be the quickest way to effectively rile Saitou up, he had to admit. Unfortunately, that would also be the fastest way to be defined as "Aku" by the former Miburo. Himura was sure he had no wish to be skewered by a Gatotsu at the current moment.

_Because, for one reason or the other, Saitou's already suspecting that I'm the Battousai. And he's trying to get me show my skills._

"He hates me," Kenshin replied, in the simplest manner he could think of. Give nothing away, even to this cheerful, carefree boy.

"But...why would he?" his companion turned curious ebony eyes to him.

"He still thinks I dyed my hair red. I think." _Kami-sama knows why._

"That's hardly a reason!" Seta cried, innocently defensive for his friend. "I think we should report this to Kondo-san. Fujita-sensei has no right to physically abuse his students!"

_Uh-oh. Bad idea. The last thing I want is to arouse unnecessary attention from the former Miburo._

"You know the principal - Saitou's his pet teacher. What good will it do whining to him?" he grinned ruefully, feeling touched by Soujiro's concern for him. To have someone caring for you...that was what he craved for in a normal life.

"Demo! Your injuries..."  
  
"I'll tell the class I fell." He rubbed the bruise on his cheek, resigning with a soft smile.

Soujiro stared, with a thoughtfulness contrasting with his usually carefree face. "Himura-san...would there be another reason for Saitou-san's hatred?"

Kenshin instantly tensed. If Soujiro knew something he should not know..."What's that supposed to mean?"

Seeing his startled expression, the charcoal-eyed schoolboy broke into laughter. "Ah, Himura-san! Sano-san is right about you - you are too serious!"

The ex-Battousai laughed along, reprimanding himself for the overreaction. Maybe he was being too jumpy. There really weren't a lot of people who would have the heart to comb the whole city for the Battousai...

...were there?

He hoped not.

* * *

**Glossary: **

**Kenjutsu:** the art of the sword

**Sensei:** a respecting title for a teacher, master etc.

**Shinai: **a practice sword, made in bamboo

**Bokken:** a wooden practice sword without hilt

**Katana:** Japanese long sword

**Sou ka: **I see (also meaning "is that so?" in a question)

**Baka deishi:** stupid apprentice, Hiko's affectionate tag for Kenshin

**Shishou:** Master

**-san: **a honorific; meaning Miss, Mrs., Mr. etc.

**Gomen nasai:** I'm sorry,

**Itai: **an exclamation; loosely meaning "ouch!"

**Aku:** evil, as in the Shinsengumi's motto, Aku Soku Zan (i.e. "Slay Evil Instantly")

**Demo: **But

**Kami-sama:** "kami" meaning god, and "sama" meaning lord.


	2. Anonymity

**Final Chess Piece by Hitokiri-san**

**A/N: Yeah, my life's been in turmoil for the past week. Studying for a Chinese History test, getting drunk from a tiny glass of champagne (my friends laughed themselves hysterics at this), getting flu today, amidst frequent tears and mood swings. And that's why I needed RK all the more, and this story. **

**And yes, I've drawn a new pic for Final Chess Piece. It can be viewed in:**

**http : hk. geocities .com / hitorkiri(underscore)battousai(underscore)ishinshishi / fchp1 . JPG**

**Of course, you have to delete all the spaces, for apparently doesn't like web links. Mou, I hope you like it! Or you can view it on my Bio page. On with chapter 2!**

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_Teachers and students. They revolve around my world now, each having his own thoughts, each unique. Different. You need to see past their common façade to reach the heart beneath._

* * *

**Ch2 Anonymity**

To Kenshin, school next day was a matter of waiting for a Physics lesson. Not that he ever liked Physics that much, but still...he _needed_ Physics. More accurately, he needed the Physics teacher right now. Very badly.

Having dismissed his most recent injury as a fall down a steep slope to his concerned classmates, Himura was now watching idly as Sagara Sanosuke scribbled away at his homework, copying directly off Kenshin's neat, well-formed one._ He sure doesn't give a damn about plagiarism. Well, I wonder if he could even spell that word..._ Kenshin sighed, elbowing his friend lightly.

"It's _superior vena cava_, not superior vanilla cove, Sano." He indicated the wrongly spelt term, turning a raised brow at Sagara. Really, students these days were plainly ridiculous with their common sense. Maybe they'd never realized how difficult it was to lead a normal life - to flip through a textbook without the conception that missing a sentence or two would result in a failure in your mission, or even your own death. Kenshin had had his Biology lessons during the civil war – but lessons then had been different. Grossly so. He had learnt about the functions of the heart only to know the fastest way to put it to a stop. He had studied human bone structures with the sole intention to break them apart in a fight. It was two entirely diverse perspectives.

Next to him, Sano gave a nonchalant shrug, viciously crossing his mistake out and replacing it with another scrawled word. "Aw...who cares? Looks the same to me."

Kenshin shook his head slightly, amused at the tori-atama's devil-may-care attitude. Sano might not be the best person to confide in – not as if Kenshin would dare revealing that he was the notorious Battousai of all legends – but nonetheless a loyal, fiery friend who would stand by him till the end. For this, the ex-Battousai was eternally grateful. After all, Sano was the fist person to admit him into the life of a school student, deeming that he needed some help from the thugs and bullies that often circled the outskirts of the campus like vultures.

"Sano?"

"What's up, Kenshin?"

"You know when our next Physics lesson will be?" the redhead glanced over at their class teacher, one Komagata Yumi, who was then admiring her reflection in the window, completely oblivious of the conversation between the two boys. Himura didn't want to risk it – he'd known, by pure war instincts, that the woman had been watching him for a long time. Out of what, Kenshin didn't know, but he wasn't going to let his guard down either.

Sano was about to respond with another "who cares" type of answer, but obviously someone was ahead of him – overly enthusiastic to reply to that particular inquiry, nevertheless.

"We've got a double today, third lesson, and a single lesson tomorrow, in the sixth lesson; another double on Thursday, eighth lesson."

Kenshin blinked in surprise at the reply originating behind him, then turned to see Okon and Omasu leaning over to grin at him, gazing lovingly at the timetable on their desk.

"Seems like we aren't the only ones here adoring Physics, eh, Himura-san?" Okon flicked her dark hair backwards, regarding Kenshin enthusiastically. The ex-Battousai mentally made an amendment to their statement – what the sisters adored wasn't Physics itself; it was the Physics sensei that they were in love with. And a Physics lesson wasn't what Kenshin needed; it was the Physics sensei that he was in need of.

Speaking of which, Physics in Tsutoki High was taught by a man with the official name of Hiko Seijuro.

* * *

"Hiko-sensei!"

The tall, muscular man turned around to see a certain violet-eyed pupil running after him with a Physics textbook. He frowned at the picture.

Hadn't he told the baka enough _not_ to go running after him in the school?

"Hiko-sensei..." Kenshin skidded to a halt at his side, looking up to the person who he'd been waiting for in the whole school day. "I have a problem with the chapter on radio length..."

"If you have a problem with your Physics, come to me after school. I have a lesson right now." The man stated, coolly irritated by his thoughtless deishi. In the eyes of the school's general population, he and Himura were never even close. Just a teacher-student relationship, with neither side liking the other too much. Was the little baka trying to spoil this impression? He dismissed the boy with a wave of his hand, deciding to give the deishi a piece of his mind later. A hand tugging the sleeve of his jacket, however, stopped him in his departure.

"Sensei! Please...this is urgent!" Himura dropped his voice to a whisper, amethyst eyes bearing into his teacher's pleadingly. Hiko's eyes traveled to the large bruise on his cheek questioningly, and the boy nodded. It _was _urgent – Kenshin wasn't kidding him in the very least.

"Follow me."

* * *

"...So, you say that Saitou is already suspecting your identity?" Hiko flipped at the Physics book absently, listening as his deishi recounted the event yesterday as concisely as possible. All this information, in truth, was out of his careful calculation. He knew there would be a few mutterings about Kenshin's hair, and general appearance in all; but had never anticipated them to get that far.

"Hai, shishou."

Seijuro observed the myriad of bruises on his apprentice's forearm for a while as a subtle connection, of time and events, began forming in his head. "Kenshin, do you know someone by the name Sekihara Sae?"

Kenshin tilted his head to the side, a little uncertainly. "Sekihara Sae...isn't she Sekihara Tae's twin sister? I heard both of them have immigrated to America this year." He had known Tae only by name – the girl was a prize student in Accounts. There was even rumours that she was going to start a restaurant right after she finished with high school Lately, though, she hadn't been spotted around the school anymore.

"That's what the students, and most of the teachers, are told. My sources informed me that Sekihara Sae was murdered in the school's laboratory a week ago. When her body was found next morning, they found that her left cheek was marked with a cross."

The redheaded student nearly dropped his book at the news. "WHAT? That's...someone's trying to..." he exclaimed, then remembering to lower his voice.

"Yes. Someone's on your trail. He's trying to lure you out." Hiko's eyed each corner briefly, before leaning closer to whisper in his deishi's ear.

"If he has to use such tactics, it probably means that he knows of the Battousai's presence in this school, but having no idea of who the exact person would be. Thus, he's making use of the Shinsengumi to find that out for him..."

Kenshin exhaled sharply. He'd always known that Tsutoki High was a Shinsengumi-operated school - he knew that way before he enrolled. Tsutoki High was literally working in the iron grasp of Kondo Isamu, the principal, Hijikata Toshizo, the vice principal; Okita Souji, the smiling Chemistry teacher, and Saitou Hajime, the detestable PE bastard. 

Yet, provided that the Shinsengumi had never met him in his real form, and that Tsutoki High was the only secondary school available in the area, Kenshin was willing to disregard the danger of having the Miburo in his midst. After their business was done, Hiko had promised to bring him out of Kyoto, where he could start a new life altogether.

The boy could hardly decipher what sort of thinking had steered the Shinsengumi members into opening a secondary school. He had had a hard time imagining them as simple, harmless teachers; but then, he had the idea that the Mibu wolves would be shocked to death if they ever knew the infamous Battousai was still eligible for a place in a high school.

After all, he was only sixteen.

"Watch after your back, baka deishi. Remember one thing, though: you can drop out of Tsutoki High when the need calls. School is not worth dying for. And about that second make-up lesson..." he shrugged once, "I guess you'll have to go. Not many "normal" students have the guts to stand Fujita-sensei up, eh?" the momentary too-serious look dissolved into an arrogant smirk.

Kenshin growled, the second time in two days.

* * *

School was dismissed by the ring of a bell, much to the dismay of Himura Kenshin and the joy of other students.

Kenshin winced obviously as Makimachi Misao, too eager to leave the classroom in a hurry, bumped directly into one of his most serious bruises. He fell to the classroom floor with an unceremonious thud; having to remind himself that any _ordinary _student, at the very least, would be lying in a heap on the floor with the impact.

"Ouch!"

"Oh, gomen Himura!" Misao apologized, helping the unfortunate boy up by the arm. She looked sincerely sorry for her latest blunder. "I didn't see you!"

"Sure you don't. Aoshi's the only person you can see on this world." The redhead replied good-humoredly, dusting himself off. Misao's obsession with Aoshi was general knowledge in the school, and Kenshin wouldn't mind teasing the weasel girl for a bit more, considering it payback for the collision.

Shinomori Aoshi was considered a hot icicle in the class, mixing constant silence, handsome features, good grades and the total lack of interest in the opposite sex in one single body. It was a common sight to see infatuated girls circling him like moons around a planet; but this icicle alone never seemed to have a tendency to melt under the waves of scorching passion. Kenshin saw past all that – to him, Aoshi was one curious person who had the impossible power of X-raying him: his secret thoughts, his desires, his caution, and...crazy as it might seem...his past. All under that thickly cheerful, thickly normal mask. Sometimes, he found himself squirming under the icy blue gaze of Aoshi's; as if he was a woman ugly beyond any word could describe, and Shinomori could, by some means, see through the overly applied makeup to the mortifying face below.

It made him uneasy and, in the other way, baffled.

Himura found that their souls – his and Shinomori's - were made of similar materials. Both evasive yet interested in the other's making, both experts in masking what they had to mask. He commenced socializing, Aoshi didn't; but both watched the world around them, giving nothing personal away.

If anything...or anyone could give something about Shinomori Aoshi away, it would be Makimachi Misao alone.

He had half expected Misao to blush or to protest lamely; so Kenshin was faintly perplexed when she frowned, a sudden gloom looming over her face.

"Aoshi-sama's been a bit weird lately..." the girl said, half to herself and half to Kenshin, "he's been jumping classes and kendo practices, disappearing over the school altogether...sometimes, sometimes I just don't know if he's even in the school anymore..." she closed her eyes in genuine worry, so very different from the genki enthusiasm she'd displayed a short while ago.

Himura started at her words. Aoshi, jumping classes? It didn't seem like him, really. Aoshi was many things, but being irresponsible or rebellious was totally out of his character, that's for sure. Aoshi could be loosely defined as his friend, a friendship based on inquisitiveness and unnatural understanding. Himura seldom spoke much to the taller boy, but communication between them usually passed from a fleeting contact of violet and ice blue eyes. He thought he could grab Aoshi's character quite precisely from that.

"By the way, Himura, if you see Aoshi-sama around, can you tell him that I left onigiri in his locker?" Makimachi smiled, deciding to brighten up for a bit, "I have to go now, Himura. Ja!"

Kenshin stared after her retreating form, a feeling of restlessness residing in his stomach. Sekihara Sae...Sekihara Tae...Shinomori Aoshi...a murder, a cross scar marked on the victim's face...this day was full of mystery, without a trace of any answer. He'd have to dwell on the issue today, after he got through Saitou's beating.

Wait, what happened to Sekihara Tae?

Sekihara Sae was now lying under the earth's surface, but Hiko never said what happened to her twin sister. The straightest possibility, of course, was that someone silenced her with death, to stop her blurting about her sister's disappearance.

Who, then, would have the heart to kill her off?...

"Himura-san?"

The short student jumped heavenwards, surprised by the sudden mentioning of his name. Who on earth could sneak up on him like that...?

The answer presented itself in the form of Soujiro, lingering by the classroom door. His usual smile was in place, only it looked rather...strained...today. Strange really, considering how Soujiro could always bring about a smile with ease. Kenshin greeted him with a casual wave.

"Why are you still here, Soujiro?" Kenshin fidgeted with the strap of his backpack, finding its length rather uncomfortable for his height. This reminded him how painfully short he really was. He tried tugging the strap in both ways, distractedly waiting for the other boy's answer.

Soujiro regarded him with serious jet-black eyes untouched by the smile lingering on his lips, choosing to ignore the previous question."Himura-san, are you going to see Fujita-sensei now?"

"Well, I guess I have no choice." The redhead shrugged in what he deemed an offhand fashion, heading for the classroom door. He had no wish to trouble Soujiro by his conflict with Saitou.

Before he reached it, however, Soujiro was ahead of him with a speed he deemed impossible, barring the door with one hand. The smile had died from his features then, intensity setting in with full force. Himura stared, thrown by the sudden reaction.

"Himura-san, don't go."

"I thought I told you, Soujiro – I don't have a choice." Kenshin stated, evenly as he observed the other side of Soujiro before him. The part of Seta Soujiro he hadn't a chance to explore was now before him, standing between him and Saitou with a wish to protect his friend. This made Himura felt slightly unreal.

"Do you want that guy to murder you? Do you want him to torture you again and again until you can hardly cover it up in front of our class?" the raven-haired boy persisted, heated emotions flying off his words. From his voice, Kenshin could know that he thought the redhead's action to be complete stupidity.

And Kenshin could understand his point.

"Soujiro..."he chided gently, not willing to have to force his way round the kid, " I don't think you want me to get a zero in PE? I understand your concern, but you should know that Fujita-sensei has no wish to really harm me." He finished, lamely. Convinced as he was that Saitou actually found relish in tormenting him, he couldn't very well tell Soujiro the same thing. Seeing the faint falter in Kenshin's words, Soujiro's face seemed to darken down a shade.

"Feign sickness. Tell Fujita-sensei that you have other activities. Do whatever else you can – but don't let him get to you, Himura-san. Fujita-sensei..." he breathed, a dark smile returning to the chiseled features.

"...is more than what you think he is."

Himura Kenshin started, his eyes darting up to meet the wide black orbs which had suddenly gone abyssal with mystery. What did he mean, "more than what you think he is"? The redhead, of course, knew Saitou for what he was. He was a former Shinsengumi, and a bastard at that. But 't have known that. It would have shocked him senseless. It would have made him want to transfer to another school immediately. It would...

"Sou ka? Then what do you think I am, Seta?" a cold, sardonic voice behind the door announced a tall, lanky Miburo, the last person Kenshin or Soujiro wanted to see at this moment.

Both paled.

* * *

**Glossary:**

**Tori-atama:** rooster head, as referring to Sano's spiky hairstyle

**Genki:** spirited

**  
  
Onigiri: **Rice ball 

**  
Miburo: **also Mibu's wolf, as a way of referring to the Shinsengumi

**Not sure if I left anything...if I did, please tell me! I'll just go on with my replies to reviewers: 5 reviews, a good start!**

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**Lilmatgirl007: **Yeah, I noted that most high school fanfics are based on romance, and mostly KK ones at that. Personally I don't read high school romance, so I think it will be a good idea to start a high school action/adventure story, just to test if I can actually do an AU fic. Thanks for reading!

**xZig-zagx:** Whoop! Nice to see you again. So yeah, I've started a new story, though this one seems to need serious plotting to work straight. 'Kay, let's work hard together, no?

**Bakabokken: **yes,I myself also tend to avoid high school AU, so my aim in this story is to change the petty happenings in a school life to more...erm, Hitokiri-san style ones. You for one know that I never write romance! Not that I have anything against romance, but I simply don't like the "love at first sight" stuff. I prefer serious romance, really.

**Blazewing:** Argh! I switched the definition! I guess I really need improvement on those Japanese terms...well, thanks for your correction; I've got it right now. I hope this story will continue to intrigue you!

**Lucrecia LeVrai:** Okay, I intend to continue this fic at all cost, though more attention will be put on PaF. So you stop being suspicious As I've said, I don't write this solely for breaking the writer's block. The story itself has a separate soul from Past and Future, too. And the evil PE thing...jeez! I have no idea PE is national language ( so I'm stupid...) ok, I will erase it as you have suggested. Look forward to seeing you again...ja!


	3. Reversion

**Final Chess Piece by Hitokiri-san**

**A/N: Merry X'mas minna! With my exams over, I finally feel like rejoicing with everyone else!When I reckoned that my last update was somewhere in October, I feel guilty about that! This is a school year meant for my public exam (sigh). Anyway, who cares? I get to update a new chapter, and I feel genki right now. But I wish I didn't have to type out the glossary…oh well…

* * *

**

_One can never be free from them, the past's shadows. At least, not me. Am I running from the past? Can I, ever? What am I to do, when remembrance presents itself in a person I have long been fleeing away from?

* * *

_

**Ch3 Reversion**

Truly, Himura consoled himself with a little sigh; things could have gone much, much worse.

The little trio encounter with Saitou hadn't ended pleasantly, so to say; one might even say that things had ended…disastrously. But Kenshin was already grateful that it hadn't concluded with a war cry of "Aku Soku Zan" and two bleeding corpses lying spread-eagled on the classroom floor, waiting for the janitor to clean them up the next morning.

Shortly afterwards, Kenshin came upon a conclusion.

Seta Soujiro had the _worst_ timing in the whole universe. And, if left unattended, his excellent timing was going to get both of them killed – if Saitou didn't kill him today.

The ex-hitokiri repeated his sigh, brows scrunching up in a mild gesture of discomfort. He wasn't sure if Soujiro was _really _trying to reveal what Kenshin thought he was going to…that Saitou was in fact more of a Miburo than a PE teacher, and that he already knew…but the younger boy sure got himself into terrible shit this time. Which wasn't at all encouraging, considering what Saitou could and might do to someone who had, potentially, known the greatest secret of his whole life. Violence and potential murder aside, at least Soujiro now had to look out for a zero in his sports if he was not careful enough.

"Sou ka? Then what do you think I am, Seta?"

Saitou had been smiling, then - if that sadistic twitch at the corner of his mouth could be slackly defined as a smile. It wasn't a smirk, for it carried no hint of any dark humor – but rather a penetrating, calculating smile, as if he'd recognized a long-hidden enemy and was excited over the fact.

A cold current had abruptly decided to offer its company among the three, at that cursed moment. It had taken all Kenshin had not to jump between his friend and his nemesis and shield the unfortunate boy behind him from a quick Lishiki.

He was silent, however, as a faint blush of awkwardness rose to Seta's normally colorless cheeks. The gloomy seriousness from before evaporated to nothingness, and the boy fidgeted in a way that literally radiated youthful innocence. The ex-Battousai had spent a second marveling at the speed Soujiro could change his whole demeanor altogether. He knew of only one person that could do that with such efficiency – and that was himself.

Kenshin had never meant to be deceiving. But he himself had not much of a control on his own character, anyway. Circumstances had gradually shaped his two-sided character, making him mild, polite, constantly caring on one hand; cold, calculating, and ever suspicious on the other. Some time ago, he'd have been sure that his milder self - his less dominant self – was merely a pretense, a mask that enabled him to live among the ordinary. Now, he was no longer sure about that. The former was a mask that granted him security and ease in the cover of humanity, giving him access to all the activities that normal schoolchildren did. The latter was a mask that enabled him to sniff out most mortal dangers before they actually happened, and locate hidden fiends with the accuracy of a radar. He had long since come to terms that the "mask" theory actually worked both ways – trying to define which character was his true self seemed no longer important.

Maybe having a double character was all his true self was about.

It hadn't mattered to him that moment; all he could see was Soujiro hesitating slightly at the Miburo's intense gaze. He'd stopped breathing at the moment, the line of his shoulder cramping with built-up tension.

"Well?" The Miburo had prompted, and the kid finally shrugged in an apologetic, self-conscious way.

"Anou…well, Fujita-san…it wasn't me," Soujiro had stuttered, looking up at his sensei with cobalt eyes that deflected penetration, "but rumours sort of said that you're…erm… interested-in-Okita-sensei-behind-Tokio-san's-back…and so…um, you have an attraction to the same sex…which is not a bad thing…" Soujiro finished in a rush, taking the more and more stormy expression on Saitou's face as a bad omen and a necessity to stop.

He was damned right, too.

Looking from Seta to Saitou, all Kenshin could think of was a choked _uh-oh_.

* * *

That, was two hours ago. 

Two hours later, Kenshin stole another brief look at his unlikely companion; maintaining the semblance of meditation while observing the wolf under half-lidded eyes. Saitou appeared to be meditating as well, though – to hell with it – Kenshin knew that the man was actually trying to overwhelm him with his flaring, fear-inducing ki. And, if he'd tried to retaliate with his own battle ki, his pretended excuse of not knowing kenjutsu would immediately be blown apart. After all, it was simple psychology - how would someone, who claimed that he had no knowledge whatsoever on kenjutsu, possess so strong a ken-ki as he did?

Saitou had led the way to the gymnasium, silent as always, with an obviously feral aura about him that spoke of a whole lot of venom. It must have been Soujiro's cheery response to his latest question that irked him – for Himura was sure that he'd done pretty much nothing to provoke his sensei today. What he _did_ forget was that Saitou's eternal grudge was always there for him, and whether he'd done anything out of line was out of the question.

And when Saitou announced what they were going to do in this make-up lesson, he'd nearly blinked in astonishment.

Nearly.

"Himura, since your kenjutsu is so hopeless beyond teaching, you shall learn to read ki this lesson." Saitou took a drag on his cigarette, not giving a damn that Tsutoki High was meant to be a non-smoking property; meanwhile watching his student's reaction with close attention. As much as he avoided admitting it, getting on the minute redhead's nerve had become his major amusement. Of course, he had more serious reasons to go after Himura; but that didn't change the fact that he derived enjoyment from doing it.

Kenshin had not known what to think about it. Ki reading? _Now?_ Okay, he was rather sure that ki reading wasn't supposed to be something in the high school PE syllabus. What would a student need ki-reading ability for, anyway? Self defense? He blinked in ridicule at that notion, then at his teacher with renewed curiosity.

What was it that Saitou wanted, this time?

The sensitive, calculating part of him had started analyzing the whole thing without his consent. He shunned it upon discovery, unconcerned that it might bring about later disadvantage on his own part. He was getting really, _really _tired to play the Miburo's game, now. Maybe it was some silly little prank that Saitou had cooked up, that was all.

"Fujita-sensei, what is a ki?" was his automatic, self-protective response.

* * *

He'd been more or less stupid, as it turned out. 

Stupid as to believe that someone such as Saitou would give up on his preys so easily. Past experiences had told him one invariable truth – Miburo _never_, ever let go. They'd never let past feuds go unreprimanded. He'd been stupid enough to forget this.

Now he suffered the consequences.

He'd had to grab at a nearby lamppost to stop himself from falling off the curb, narrowing missing a careening vehicle that threatened to run him over had he been foolish enough to invade the road area. Kenshin obviously did not have a death wish at the moment; but being ki-assaulted for two consecutive hours had led to acute dizziness and the total loss of judgmental power, even for the famed Battousai who had been known for his incredible will power. Commencing a weak attempt at cursing the former Shinsengumi's name, Kenshin leant a fatigued shoulder against the said lamppost. Once…twice…he willed his breathing to stabilize, ignoring the occasional strands of pain that flared across his temple.

Good, so he had an oncoming headache to add to the list. Talk about bad luck and a demon of a teacher.

The boy pushed off against his temporary support, renewing his effort at moving on. The last thing he needed was a stray policeman asking why he was strolling along the street on eight-thirty at night for practically no reason.

So when a limousine skidded to a halt beside him and a dozen men stepped out from it, the first word that came into his mind was, ridiculously, police. But then, narrowing his eyes, he realized that patrolling policemen _simply _did not approach a common civilian like this. They were fanning out around him, black-grey shadows in the dark, their forms tensed slightly in readiness of a fight. They were no ordinary triad thugs ganging up on a lone schoolboy either, Kenshin mused. Aside from the fact that triad thugs probably wouldn't ride in limos, those men were holding themselves in a way that suggested they had undergone massive kenjutsu training.

Kenshin planted his feet slightly apart, anxious to regain his equilibrium with steady breaths before the chitchat ended and the fighting started in earnest. Yet as his hand dropped instinctively to his side, he was distinctly startled to feel the smooth fabric of his school jacket instead of a cool metal hilt. He smiled humorlessly.

_Where is a katana when you need it?_

Of course, he knew, that it was he who personally forced himself out of the habit of wearing his daishou around. A teenage boy with a pair of swords at his hip didn't blend into the crowd well, he reckoned. But it didn't keep him from feeling uneasy about losing the comforting weight that was once secured on his person. The absence of his swords signified one important thing – that he was now literally defenseless, and any amateur with any type of weapon might as well rend him asunder should his true identity be uncovered. He'd accepted that as well, having long realized that his way of salvation and atonement didn't lie with the sword - didn't lie with the vicious cycle of murder and revenge. If being killed for his former deeds was his destiny, so be it. It wasn't as if he _wanted _that much to live anyway. It would even be a sense of justice, considering what he had done in days gone by.

But then again, Hiko would probably smack him senseless if he found out that his ahou of a deishi, screw the fact that he was the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu's one and only successor, was actually trying to commit indirect suicide.

"Himura Battousai-san, I presume." The circle of men drew closer to the lamppost, and Kenshin beheld a couple of faces that held no more life than those lying in the graveyard. Bleak, plain and entirely emotionless, the ex-Battousai was rather sure that describing their features to anyone afterwards was near to impossible. He knew it, then. What it meant.

He knew the expression – the bleakness, the lack of emotions. It belonged to _him_, once; the mask he'd worn to give others the impression that he cared naught about taking human lives, that he was totally capable in his job. He'd tried to convince himself of that, too, save that it never really worked as effectively. Granted, his own features could never be _plain_, but that didn't stop him from drawing a strong resemblance between what they are, and what he once was…

_Hitokiri._ Assassins.

Finally, someone had sent a dozen assassins in attempt to end his miserable existence…that thought sent a sardonic smile to his lips. It was just as well; he didn't bother with denying the title as he replied.

"What do you want?" It was said in a flat, almost bored monotone.

The former speaker seemed to hesitate for a mere second – there was no telling with his expression – before he continued, the complete flatness of his tone mirroring the ex-hitokiri's.

"Katsura-sama desires to meet you."

Sou da na…Katsura. Katsura Kogoro of the Choshu han. Katsura, always his commander from the back. He'd almost forgotten, willing himself to believe that he had left the man behind. It displeased him a little, having to recall someone that was the bridge to his past.

"I do not know anyone by the name of Katsura." That was a lie, and he knew it. Still noting the slight nausea in his system, the boy continued ahead, knowing it wasn't over, and not caring in the slightest. He'd sworn to himself that he would have nothing to do with Katsura again, and he intended to keep his vow intact.

Himura would have continued on his way if a figure hadn't been there to stop him.

"Come on now, Battousai-san. You know exactly who Katsura-sama is."

He halted, tilting his face upward to reveal hard amethyst eyes and the delicate, angered face of a young schoolboy. The gravity in his voice, however, greatly belied the almost lovely features.

"Then tell him this: he shall not see me!" The statement, Kenshin mused inwardly, was blatantly challenging for the fact that he had no weapon whatsoever. Very possibly, these henchmen of Katsura's had taken note of that, too.

"This is as Katsura-sama thought. Excuse us, Battousai-san."

Before Kenshin could ask what he should excuse them for, he felt the few ki energies behind him spike suddenly. Without thinking, he leapt off from harm, pushing against the length of the lamppost to reposition himself out of the envelopment circle.

Hefting the backpack that had slid off during the leap back onto his shoulder, the ex-assassin coolly regarded the metallic weapons that his assailants now had in hand. He was pretty sure that he would have been stabbed in the back by those things had he not evaded quickly enough – it seemed that these guys cared precisely about nothing for fair play, and much less for back-stabbing someone.

For a moment, it appeared to him that they were swords of some sort, but then he realized that for swords, their blades were much too blunt…and tubular, for that matter. Frowning a little, he altered his assessment to clubs. But if they were clubs, they were curiously light…Kenshin didn't let his confusion distract him, and proceeded to mentally search for possible weapons that could enable him to retaliate. When he found none, the teenager resolved to flee at quick notice. After all, there was absolutely no point, and nothing to gain, in fighting with them.

As if reading his thoughts, the men came flying at him once they realized that he wasn't intending to stay. The ex-Battousai shifted insignificantly as he saw one of those unidentifiable blades thrust at him, allowing it to brush across his clothes instead of running him through. That done, he elbowed another offending assassin in the ribs, forcing him to drop the weird-looking contraption. As for a third that was sneaking up behind him, he promptly executed a back-kick that sent the man flying into a dustbin nearby. The almost simultaneous moves had lasted for only two seconds; albeit the ex-manslayer could feel a blast of nausea threatening to glaze his vision already. _Saitou…I'm so gonna get you for that one, you know._

Three down,nine remaining. He wondered if his attackers were thinking that ganging up on him wasn't a good idea after all. It was plain clear that there was a huge gap between his skills and theirs', even without a katana.

It wasn't until a sharp jolt of pain on his left arm that Kenshin realized that he didn't exactly have the upper hand. He snapped his head around, kneeing the offender in the guts. The schoolboy inspected his arm for a moment, surprised that it hadn't been pierced through or anything. Then, where did that pain come from?

_What was it, the blue spark of energy that flickered around the club in that instance? _Kenshin watched, bemused, before it struck him.

_Electricity._

The club-things were electrified, that much was sure. Katsura had probably meditated on that issue, he pondered, scowling mentally. As much as the Choshu commander wanted to "meet" him, he wanted him alive and breathing. The clubs were for the sole purpose of knocking him out cold, and not cutting him into pieces. Also, Katsura wouldn't want any sort of katana to be presented anywhere within Kenshin's reach, for certain.

The sixteen-year-old boy could feel his arm going from real painful to total numbness. He tried lifting it. It didn't reply in the minimum, as if the limb was never there and he was moving something that didn't exist. If Katsura was aiming to capture him by paralyzing his attacks,he was doing one hell of a good job.

He was lucky this wasn't his sword arm, too. But he highly doubted if he would be _that_ lucky next time. Sensing another prick of pain, he placed his right hand against one cheek, once again wondering where that had originated.

And _here _was another thing that disturbed him greatly –

- It seemed, strangely, that his left cheek was tearing open in two crossing lines and a gush of blood…

* * *

**Glossary:**

**Hitokiri: **Manslayer. In case you don't know that, it's in my name too…

**Lishiki: **the first form of (Saitou's) Gatotsu, which, as I believe, is a ground-to-ground thrust that stabs the opponent right in the front

**Ken-ki: **literally, aura of the sword. It's an offensive form of _ki _that swordsman possess

**Daishou: **the pair of swords that a Japanese samurai wears, the longer one being the katana and the shorter one being the wakizashi

**Ahou: **moron, idiot

**-sama: **a honorific meaning Lord, lady, etc.

**Sou da na: **loosely meaning "that's right"

**Choushu han: **han means clan. The Choushu clan is one of the clans that initiates opposition against the Bakufu government and eventually overthrows it, along with Satsuma and others. (dunno…I'm no History student) anyway, Kenshin once served the Choushu han as Himura Battousai in the manga timeline, and will remain the same in this story.

* * *

**Lucrecia LeVrai: **Kenshin's slightly OOC? Uh-oh…I have to do something about that. I've had a hard time characterizing Kenshin, since here he hasn't really taken a non-killing vow but isn't Battousai either. As for Kaoru and Tomoe, I'm not sure about that…but both will probably not play major roles in the story! And I agree with you, I hate putting Author's note in the middle of a story… 

**Rain angst: **I see you have a cool name! Angst makes the world go! Thanks for the compliment, I hope to see you this chapter.

**BakaBokken: **(smirks) Saitou's an $$hole? I guess you can say that for Kenshin…and Soujiro. The boy is _so _gonna get it from the wolf. At least Kenshin gets another martyr to suffer for him. Heh, I am just handicapped when it comes to romance. Not that I don't like well written, in-depth romance, but _still_…that's why having to study Wuthering Heights in Literature gets on my nerve.

**Lilmatchgirl007: **rest assured, I'm NOT going to make this story into any type of romance. Action and ass-kicking rules! With a bit of mystery, yes…as much as I like to see K/T pairings, seeing Kenshin beat someone up suits me better – or I'm just a psychopath. Whatever.

**Innocence8: **I love ending with cliffies! I know it's cruel and all that but hey! That's where the fun comes from!! Ouch, and I cliffhanged (or should I say cliffhung?) this time too…thanks for reading!

**Yaoi Bunny:** hey, thanks for that! I'll be working on the plot, please excuse my extremely irregular and slow updating! I'll squeeze some free time out, you see…

**Hyper-health-critic:** Yeah, those lines describing Aoshi is just another way of me saying "readers, Aoshi is an uncommunicative iceman who possibly has a fear of crowds and likes to brood over evil plans and craves for the title of "the Strongest"." Hehe. I like Aoshi quite much, only next to Saitou. Thanks for all that support! You really make my day.

**Dragonheart2: **I excel in everthing required for a good fic? (widens eyes) wow! That's a really big compliememt! I'm glad I didn't screw up in major plots or something. Cliffhanging you is my major amusement! I like to torture readers as much as Saitou loves to torture Kenshin…kimi wa watashi no tomodachi! (smiles)

**Gojaru:** gojaru? Does that comes from Lori's version of Kenshin's "gozaru"? I think it is! (smiles) I watched that only today. Thanks for making me one of your favs, I feel really honored and stuff, ne?


	4. Confrontation

**Final Chess Piece by Hitokiri-san**

**A/N: I'm back! A rather late Happy New Year to all readers! This chapter is quite smooth, and only takes me half a night (half a midnight to be exact) to finish half of it. Now that I've bought a new keyboard today – the old one keeps dying on me at odd intervals that I couldn't even type properly – I am very eager to test out its effects. And the story unveils itself… I confess, the chapter is greatly inspired by _The Phantom of the Opera. _Yah, I've seen the movie and all that. Needless to say, I'm greatly tempted to try the voice-in-my-mind thing on my story…**

**Katsura: (as Phantom) …and though you turn from me, to glance behind; the Lord of the Choshu clan is there, inside your mind… Sing, my angel of death!**

**Kenshin: …really? Now I'm questioning the man's sanity…**

* * *

_I'd liked to think that I have cut myself loose from old snares; but what I actually did was walk around with the noose still on my neck. In a game which walking away is never considered an option, where should I place my next step?_ _

* * *

_

**Ch 4 Confrontation**

He traced feather-light fingers along the familiar shape stretching across the left half of his face; nearly oblivious to the fact that, by doing so, he was smearing blood over his entire countenance. He also ignored that half of his emotions, which he had kept reined under a façade of blank, composed displeasure, had chose to reflect themselves on his features.

This…this _couldn't_ have been true. Heck, no, logically it _could_ have happened, but Kenshin had always preferred to think that he was past that point. That cursed scar had faded away once, a little after his flight from the Ishinshishi; and he had reasoned that the disappearance of his scar marked one most important thing in his pursuit of freedom: that Katsura's reign over him had ended. After all, it was only reasonable that the power of the curse would not last for all eternity; it had faded over time, and its fading was his salvation.

He'd been childish in his assumptions, though. The spell might have gone to sleep during this lapse, but was entirely too stubborn and persistent to release him from its grasp. He – the analytical, ever-vigilant side of him chided none-too-gently – should have known better.

Reality snapped back to him in the form of a slashing club and the wielder behind it; Kenshin quickly discovered that he'd been, unforgivably, spacing out. And on top of that, he was currently sporting a slightly desolate wide-eyed expression on his face. Miraculously, it was his sudden exhibition of expressions that saved him during his slip; while his assailants had been well prepared – mentally, anyway - for his exquisite sword skills, the sight of Hitokiri Battousai's face betraying _surprise_, in the meantime being torn open by some unknown force, was a foreign idea to them. They had faltered for a bit during the occurrence, contemplating what exactly to do; and that granted Himura time enough to recover a trifle from the shock.

Kenshin ducked downwards, amethyst eyes widening a bit at the close call. Half-turning, he swept the offending assassin's legs from under him before dropping a karate-chop on another attacker's wrist, effectively blocking another blow aimed for his head. The electrified contraption went clattering into the granite floor, missing the boy's forehead by bare inches. He swore mentally; the reopening of his cursed scar was causing his attention to slip, little by little - and it was going to get him hurt further by those amateurs, if he didn't change that soon.

It was still dripping blood, the wound; the carnelian droplets accumulating into rivulets before sliding down his chin in a slick, coppery-smelling flow. He could feel the force now, that same force that bound him forever to the young Choshu Lord -was whispering his name, softly and seductively, in his mind. It was the one voice that he knew he could not tune out, and yet had tried anything in his power to forget…

Katsura was _calling_. Calling to him from nearby, his slave of mind, to return to him; to finish the task that he had neglected, for so long…

_No._

He would not be returning, not this time. Himura Kenshin was a high school student. Himura Kenshin did not associate himself with some dark political figures that appeared out of nowhere asking for his company. And Himura Kenshin was _certainly _going to finish his Chemistry lab report tonight - or else Sano would throttle him for not providing him a piece of homework to copy off from, and Okita-sensei might make him mix some concentrated sulfuric acid with water just to show the class the potential hazards of Chemistry experiments (or late homework submissions).

The last notion brought a wan smile to his lips. _That_ was where his life was supposed to lead to, to worry about not being able to submit his homework on time and whatnot. His smile, however, was cut short as yet another person aimed his apparatus directly towards his throat. He had some nerve, that one; obviously the failure of all previous assaults had lead the men to adopt a higher level of violence than they'd been instructed. Assassins, after all. Kenshin frowned softly, a decidedly fed up expression creasing his brows.

The monotonic, yet powerful summon. The repetitive, yet formidable assault. It was an attempt to disconnect him from his world of serene sanity. He, Himura Kenshin, had just had enough of this antic!

The ex-hitokiri removed his backpack from one slender shoulder with his available arm, only to slam it full-force into the face of his latest foe. He listened with uncharacteristic satisfaction as it made a loud crack upon impact, signaling that one more of his assailants was now out of commission. Oh, if there's one thing about industrious students, it's that their schoolbags are probably more solid than a meteor. And one thing that Kenshin could assure himself of, apart from his sword skills, was that he _had _always been on the industrious side.

Six down, half a dozen remaining.

It was time to go, unless he wanted to lose his mind or go completely berserk.

Seeing an opening, he made a run for it, swinging the backpack over his back as he went. It was not the way that he intended to go, but rather the opposite – it did not matter. As long as he could get rid of these _friendly_ way-layers, he would have a thousand ways to get back home. And then, he could contact his master and solve this over wi-…

* * *

_**Where are you going, Himura?**_

It was he again, inquiring casually in the schoolboy's head. Kenshin felt anger now, an anger stemmed from what transpired a year ago…yet it seemed like centuries back. He quelled it instantly – white-hot anger would lead to nothing but his undoing; he was well aware of this. He would_ not _let Katsura get the better of him. There was another feeling in his head though…something that seemed suspiciously akin to fear. He dismissed it immediately – what had he to fear, anyway? He went on, conscious that he was slowly leaving his pursuers behind, thanks to his god-like speed. A few more steps now, and he would be granted the blessing of solitude.

_**Do you wish for me to leave you in earnest?**_

It was said along with a virtual sigh, laced with unknown emotions. Himura winced in earnest - the cross scar was throbbing painfully , becoming more and more of a disturbance as the connection between _them_ – slave and master – became stronger each passing second. The blood continued on its trail, now soaking the once pure white collar of his school uniform. Kenshin tried not to think of any metaphorical meaning in staining pristine white with blood that would have been worth some points in his Literature studies. He didn't need his life turning into some sort of Literature tragedy – hadn't it sucked enough, at this moment?

**_Reluctant as you are to see me, there is a reason why I am calling on you, Himura. Come to me._**

Come to me, eh? Himura felt the corner of his lips twitch in annoyance; he was about to offer the mental voice a biting remark but a slight _thwip _alerted him to his surroundings. He leaped heavenward, his school jacket billowing behind him, as a thin, silvery thread coiled around the air where his foot would be a mere second before. He landed deftly, picking up speed again till his pursuers were out of his sight. He accelerated, blending into the shadows as he melted into the deceiving safety of night.

"If you think these men can bring me to you, Katsura-san, you still do not know me enough." The ex-hitokiri wiped at his cheek with the sleeve of his jacket, only managing to smudge the blood further. It was literally burning now, the scar; throbbing and pulsing as if it had a life of its own. Added to his original discomfort, the agony of this was nearly overwhelming. He took extra care not to stumble or lose his footing, not wanting any chance for his followers to catch up.

_Stronger and stronger yet... _It was perplexing. All the time he was going opposite from Katsura's associates; but it seemed, somehow, that the link tying him to Katsura was making its presence more persisting, more obvious. It troubled the boy greatly – the effort he gave just to sprint in a straight line was inexcusable.

There was one thing that Kenshin knew, and despised: when Katsura was in close range, and wanted strongly for him to do something, the ex-hitokiri's own will would always succumb to the unspoken command, falling into a daze that was no less different from a sleep.

The curse. _His_ curse.

* * *

When it had started, and where it had originated, Kenshin had no idea; but there had been a time, towards the end of his official career, that he had been in an unthinking daze more often than not. Unthinking, yet vivid images of flowing carnelian liquid, of dismembered figures lying motionless would always return to him in most unsuspecting times…and then his cheek would began throbbing anew. The trances marked their openings and closings with the inflictions and healings of the scar…they always did. 

It was odd, though, how these trances had never plagued him the time when he had first sworn his sword to the cause – twelve years old he was, thinking that his ominous past had granted him maturity beyond his years; and along with it, wisdom. He had thought, with childish logic, that his years of intense studying could guide him in the distinction of right from wrong, good from evil. It didn't, and when he realized it, he had…

_Yamero._

The boy reprimanded himself, immediately, for such negligence in a time of danger. He had dozed off for about five seconds; it was too long, by a hitokiri's… ex-hitokiri's … standards. There was another thing about the cross scar – it tended too much to mess up his emotions and send him remembrances when he least needed them. But if he had realized his stupidity sooner, he could have left his career unscathed; could have left all behind without having to bear this mark of captivity…

"STOP IT." He had skidded to a halt, almost shouting at his train of thoughts - his inner mind in agitation. The referenced curse was now flowing with a renewed passion, no doubt responding to his earlier sentiments; the blood loss – not to mention the pain itself – was already starting to blind his vision.

"Remembrances could not be put to a stop, Himura. You have no way of tuning your inner mind out - just as you have no way of tuning my will out."

Violet eyes sprang to its widest extent; refusing, in mute dread, to meet the face of the aforementioned voice's owner. Uttering what sounded akin to a bleak sigh, the man in question drew nearer; the ex-manslayer did not, could not free himself as the man reached out and lifted his chin, forcing their gazes to meet. He was frozen in resignation, as a prey would have been before its predator; knowing that there was no use and no point in petty struggling, and that its fate laid entirely with the predator's will.

At such close quarters, it would take only a thought in mind on the man's part to get the boy do whatever he saw fit…to throw himself down at the his feet, to slaughter the population of an entire kindergarten, or to throw himself off the nearest skyscraper…

Yet, as Kenshin surveyed him in frozen numbness, he could see that he, at least, didn't have the above maniac designs in mind for the moment…

A solemn, handsome face slightly more worn and haggard than before; straight, dark tresses gathered into a topknot, with a single strand lying across the forehead. A suit of navy blue adorned his lean figure, making him a figure of flawless graciousness.

And the ebony shade of his eyes, so laden with the duty and gravity of his position…

He had came face-to-face with Katsura Kogoro; current administering president of the Meiji government, and the sole master of his manipulated soul.

* * *

Katsura studied the young features before him, as if pondering and memorizing what he saw. The boy's face was set in various emotions: the Choshu Lord could discern anger, confusion, and antipathy…those being the most obvious…and a trace of dread behind the orbs. The bewildered amethyst gaze slowly hardened, now regarding him with defiance evident in its expression. Kenshin, still, did not utter a single word; thinking that any word bestowed on the young lord would be meaningless. 

"I had hoped that it would not come down to this." Katsura's smooth, formal wordings flowed like water through the crisp night air, but no reply from his companion was received. It was meant to be like this: there was no communication between the two, master and slave.

"Forgive me, Himura."

His skull…it felt like it was bursting open in all this agony. In a way, it had; the scar dug ever deeper into his flesh, sending realities and fantasies merging in one great jolt of pain. The familiar crimson crossed his mind; and this time, it was accompanied with a surreally serene child's voice…

_" Have your soul been stolen, hitokiri?"_

_"I shall come back for you, bewitched hitokiri."_

It was a fantasy made up of thousands of voices representing anguish…yet it was a distinct memory. Dimly befuddled, Kenshin tried vainly to recall the child's voice…

Then, eventually, he heard no more in the vortex of oblivion.

* * *

Katsura watched with graceful composure as the child in his grasp convulsed violently upon his will, a pained hiss of moaning escaping from formerly wordless lips. The blood bursting forth abruptly from Kenshin's wound alone had drenched the young lord's forearm, and still he made no effort to retract it. When the animated violet eventually lost its luster, the boy went slack and fell into his former commander's arm; his long, flaming topknot trailing behind him. 

Without a word, the Choshu lord hefted his charge up by the shoulders, transferring him into the hands of one of his men who had at that point entered the scene in pursuit of the redheaded student.

"Get him into the limo – _gently_." Was the president's instruction as he himself retired into the said vehicle.

* * *

Unbeknownst to them, a dark-eyed creature was audience to the whole curious scene at the next junction point. 

"_Ew_!" The slim figure promptly withdrew into the shadows, making a noise of disgust as Himura's limp form was lifted into the limo. She had to admit it: it looked uncannily like an ultra-violent case of schoolboy-kidnapping. All considered, except that the kidnapper was the current president of Japan itself and the schoolboy was the most feared assassin of the same nation.

Another shadow, further in the depth of darkness, ventured in a cheerful voice, "What is it, Yumi-san?"

Yumi held a hand against her lips, as if she was on the border of being sick. "For Kami's sake, Hitokiri Battousai is literally _dripping _with blood! They do treat him rather violently for a prized asset. Isn't it so, boy?"

As the limo sped out of sight, Soujiro materialized from among the shades, tapping a finger on his lips thoughtfully. "I do think that Shishio-san does a better job at keeping his assets." He smiled that constant smile of his, cocking his head. "I bet Himura-san won't be too happy about this; but we shall soon see."

"Honto ne." Yumi readily agreed, turning on her heels to leave the gruesome sight behind. Blood and violence usually did not bode well with her - she was a lady ,and certainly not a warrior! She marveled a little at the boy's uncaring attitude for the situation. Even she was...surprised would be an understatement...awed to see the notorious Battousai carried off easily like a broken rag doll, or a bag of potatoes.

With that they disintegrated into the dark, leaving only a scant few nocturnal souls as witnesses of their presence. None other than those who were present tonight would know the fate that had befallen the young ex-hitokiri.

That would suit them well enough.

* * *

**Glossary:**

**Ishinshishi:** literally, patriots of the revolution

**Yamero: **stop it

**Honto ne: **that's true

* * *

**Lilmatchgirl007:** yep; in my world of fanfiction, angst pretty much rules. I have a liking for remembrances, dark pasts and other things of the sort…or maybe I'm being paranoid. I surely won't want to have any of the above happening in my life! 

**Night-Owll23:** Yep, a happy new year to you too! It's nice to know that someone out there really enjoys the crap I'm writing.

**Nekotsuki(screw the unsigned-in):** I've included quite a bit of additional information in this chapter, just so the story doesn't get one heck too mysterious that no one understands what I'm writing . That's not all…I assure you. If you can work out the whole story plan, I'm going to worship you. Heh.

**Enchantedsleeper:** Kenshin and normal life sure as hell has nothing in common. Who would want to see the show if his life's all normal and uninteresting, anyway? Um…about the female cast of the story, I'm not sure what to do with the girls without turning this into a romance fic. Something I'm still working on…

Nice name! (snickers) yeah, Kenshin's rather useful, in some way, and so has many different sides looking out for him. I assure you that I shall make his life one hell of a mess before he can consider living!

**Lucrecia LeVrai:** What Katsura-san wants? It is something that should be explained in the next chapter, no doubt…and Saitou, and Soujiro, and the Shishio behind him…it seems that everyone wants something out of the poor little hitokiri! I'm glad that you like my hitokiri-turned-schoolboy; characterizing Kenshin is one hell of a nightmare! Still, I'm going to calculating what he says and does rather carefully…

I threw in something about his "official career", as you suggested. Still, it is sort of misty and unclear…it will clear up. Someday . Thanks for reading!

**XZig-zagx:** I'm glad you like this story along with PaF! I'm rather curious about the Author Alert thing…I never learnt how to use it. I rely on my Review Alert a lot, but for some strange reason it is currently disabled. Kenshin shall be thrown into the turmoil of all power struggles and rot there forever!…

**BakaBokken:** For the animosity part, it's mainly Kenshin denying Katsura's persisting presence in his life. Still, we shall find out their mixed feelings about each other…and Saitou wouldn't be content to be left out of the show, ne?


	5. Decision

_An illusion of security and normalness, that's what my current life resembles. How easily, indeed, for the illusion to disperse under the slightest pressure. That is when I realize I hate facing reality._

**Ch 5 Decision**

…_five, six, seven, eight… _

The phone rang on in a monotonous tenor, its crackling static unpleasant to the user's ear. Expressing curbed impatience with a slight frown, he held on to the receiver; one hand tapping absently on the tabletop beside him.

He started a little as his student's cheerful voice abruptly took over the ringing.

"This is Himura Kenshin. If you hear this, I'm probably not available at the moment. Please try again later, or leave your message after the beep and I'll call back as soon as I…"

Hiko slammed the receiver down, not bothering to wait for the beep. It was already eleven o'clock at night, and Kenshin should have been home ages before that. Hell, the little brat should have been home at eight; it was one of the many things that he had promised his shishou. Hiko would - or could - not allow him to wander, unarmed and purposeless, in the darkened streets of Kyoto. Goodness knew that a lot of people out there would like to get a hold of a weaponless and defenseless Battousai, regardless of what their purposes were.

Damn the baka deshi for all this trouble.

Enrolling into Tsutoki High hadn't been smooth for both of them, so to say. They had quarreled long and hard over the matter - Kenshin fixated on commencing a "normal" life as soon as possible, Hiko certain that his student was being overly rash and senseless. Major arguments between them were never concluded easily, as both master and student were accustomed to being stubborn in their respective beliefs. And had the thirteenth master of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu not remembered the consequences of their last dispute, he might not have agreed to his deshi's decision in the first place. The enrolment, to him, was disturbingly dangerous and closer to suicide than his warrior's sense preferred. He understood, however, how brashly his apprentice would react to desperation if pushed to the extreme – it was the main cause of the ex-hitokiri's last blunder. Hiko would not let history repeat itself. This was his primary concern.

He was also aware that the prolonged period of solitude and hiding was eating at the redheaded boy; the teen needed interactions with the world. No matter how weathered and skilled he was, Kenshin was _still_ a child – there was no denying it.

So the deal was made. Kenshin could get into the school under Hiko's supervision, provided that he followed every rule that his master set. Kenshin had been more than happy to oblige, swearing on his honour that he wouldn't jeopardize his allowance by violating the rules. Hiko had trusted him to keep to his words.

The current circumstances proved to him that Kenshin was either truly an idiot, or had finally been bold enough to completely disregard his teacher's orders.

Either way, the boy was going to regret his very existence tomorrow, if he hadn't regretted it enough, Hiko vowed through narrowed eyes.

But under that layer of annoyance was a hint of worry that the swordsmaster wasn't ready to admit to himself. Kenshin wasn't one to ignore rules because he felt like it; he was never rebellious to his teacher without a good reason. Sure, the boy had had his days – occasional bouts of depression, no doubt caused by dark remembrances of his past; and silent sessions of contemplating over the future – and when this happened, the kid would probably mope around in some discreet corner, and Hiko would make sure to let him alone, pretending not to notice. According to him, moping around for a short while was acceptable – as long as his student could muster up enough strength to stand up again after that. Moping around for an extended period, on the other hand, _was_ a weakness; if Kenshin ever considered doing that, he was sure to find himself promptly beaten up by his stern master.

The unanswered call might just be another bout of moping on Kenshin's part, but somehow Hiko doubted its likelihood. He had called to further discuss his views on Sekihara Sae's murder, and provided that Kenshin was recently alerted to the case, it seemed…_wrong_ for the boy to mope over other concerns at the time. He should have been distracted enough. But if it was a guilt attack over Sekihara's death… Hiko gave an exasperated sigh. Kenshin's guilt had a tendency to stretch on forever if there was nothing to distract him, thanks to an overdeveloped conscience. Sometimes Seijuro would wonder if it was really he who had drilled _that_ much moral into the child.

Just then, the phone broke into a fit of high-pitched wailing; Hiko realized that he'd been glaring daggers at the innocent appliance for the last five minutes, one hand gripping the receiver with such force that it was in danger of being reduced into splinters. He lifted the receiver to one ear with a grimace, wondering if it was yet another of his bothersome female students, phoning him under the guise of discussing Physics and ending up trying to get him into a date.

"Hiko speaking."

"Hiko-san," the voice on the other side of the phone didn't offer a name, or anything that resembled an introduction; Hiko simply didn't need it. "The president is in town."

Hiko scowled heavily at the handset, recognizing the man behind that particular title. _Katsura Kogoro_? In Kyoto? Wasn't the high-and-mighty Mr. President supposed to stay in Tokyo, the current capital of Japan? He cleared his throat once before replying.

"Does he have any…particular activities that lead him here?" the Physics teacher inquired, trying to work out the man's reason for leaving the capital like this. Hiko had a rough sketch of Katsura's character in mind - like Kenshin, the Choshu leader never did anything on an idle whim; unlike Kenshin, he usually had more than one scheme behind his actions, in which personal emotions counted less than little. Though not necessarily evil, the man was purely political and would go to any lengths to achieve his goals. That was why Hiko intended to keep Kenshin out of Katsura's hands this time, even if it meant having to clear the president from the earth's surface.

The voice on the opposite end hesitated.

"Not that I know of, but it probably has something to do with…the boy."

_He's coming for Kenshin_… Hiko was silent for a moment, homicidal thoughts dancing around his mind in quick succession. If Katsura ever attempted to manipulate Kenshin again, he'd never live to see another day – that he promised himself. He muttered a brief "thank you" into the phone before putting it down with deceptive deliberateness.

Katsura's arrival and Kenshin's sudden disappearance…maybe he was jumping to conclusions. But there was always the possibility…Hiko fingered the car key in his jeans pocket, brows scrunching up as he made his final decision.

He would give it until tomorrow.

And tomorrow, he planned to see his baka deshi, no matter the cost.

Tomorrow saw Sagara Sanosuke flinching very visibly under Okita's bright smile.

It was rather ridiculous, really, a violent gangster cowering before a teacher who was decidedly effeminate and shorter by two heads; but the class had gone completely silent, most having taken Chemistry long enough to anticipate Okita-sensei's reaction over a late piece of homework. No one was particularly enthusiastic about being included in the forthcoming onslaught, and generally contented themselves with sticking as close to the lab walls as possible, test tubes and spatulas still in hand.

In the center of the room stood Okita Souji and Sagara Sanosuke; the former holding a beaker of bubbling chemical in a gloved hand with a trademark smile, the latter looking as though he feared that Okita would somehow break the beaker over his head and melt his face with its contents.

"Sagara-san, I believe that I asked you to hand in the assignment today?" the beaker cocked slightly to one side, the solution dashing near the rim with a slight sizzle. Sano pondered briefly if it was a deliberate attempt at intimidating him. It didn't really matter; he was already intimidated. It baffled Sano, how Okita could get as scary as Saitou with a smile on his lips. A slow speculation on his part, considering that almost all Chemistry students in Tsutoki High had pondered the same mystery long ago.

"Well, I sorta know…but Kenshin's not in today and…yeah…so…I can't damn well hand it in…"

"Himura-san?" Okita cocked one slender eyebrow, mild curiosity settling on his features. "I do not think that Himura-san has anything to do with your assignment…unless you have been planning to copy from his work."

Sanosuke was positive that almost all teachers in Tsutoki High had demonic insights. "Er…not really. Just…for reference, you know."

All present flinched at the intelligence, or lack thereof, in his words.

"Forget it," Okita gave a little sigh, causing the remnants of his students to recoil further against the wall. Something bad was certainly coming. "As recompense for your late assignment, Sagara-san, can you assist me in our experiment this lesson?"

Sano nodded – before recognizing, with his limited Chemistry knowledge, that the chemical in the beaker was actually concentrated sulfuric acid…_very_ concentrated sulfuric acid, in fact… and that Okita's gaze was directed at the tap near the lab table.

"Sagara-san, would you mind exhibiting the result of adding 15cc of water to a beaker of concentrated sulfuric acid at once?"

There was a collective gasp as all students that didn't fall under the 'immortal' category fought desperately for shelter after perceiving the message. At Okita's left, Shinomori and Misao took silent refuge behind a concrete pillar; behind Sano, Kiyosato Akira and Soujiro concurrently ducked under the same workbench.

"Sure, why not," was Sano's blissfully innocent response.

Sometimes, as Sanosuke failed to notice, Kenshin _did_ have a demonic insight on par with that of any teacher when it came to anticipating punishment.

The resulting explosion was clearly audible in the gymnasium three floors below, where Saitou dismissed it with a smirk and a nonchalant shrug.

Kenshin woke to a faint collection of dark alleys, fighting, unfinished schoolwork, H2SO4 and William Shakespeare. Attempting to determine which of the above was the priority with a shake of his head, he quickly discovered any movement to be a bad idea after all.

His head was splitting open with pain. Literally.

Groggily, he told himself that the cranium wasn't, to be biologically accurate, supposed to split open during a headache, and the chapter on human structure was not included in his next Biology test anyway. Dismissing the observation as a waste of his time, the redhead tried his best to trace the source of his latest discomfort.

_Saitou. Make-up lesson. Going home late at night. Ambush._

_**Katsura Kogoro.**_

That name alone cleared his head of dizziness, if only for a moment; he bolted upright, back against a stack of downy pillows, as realization dawned. Exhaling sharply, the boy lifted a hand gingerly to his left cheek, fingertips brushing over a thin, sticky layer of cloth that he immediately recognized as gauze. Kenshin sighed, too worn down from his latest injury to muster up any real wrath towards his captor.

He'd fallen under the old spell. _Again._

That notion, to his own surprise, brought him mostly dismay and annoyance.

Kenshin rubbed absentmindedly at his temples, kicking back the covers as he descended from the bed, flame-red hair cascading down his shoulders in an unkempt wave as he stood to his full height. His surroundings, furnished with authentic (and probably expensive to the point of ridiculousness) furniture and occasional paintings that looked more like blotches of misplaced colours than anything else, suggested a president suite – he wasn't particularly impressed. After all, his host _was_ a president.

Speaking of said president…the boy spared a glance at the mahogany door, and knew from a soft push that it was locked quite solidly on the outside. The windows were, to his initial amazement, not even closed, but when metal panes slid down from the sill to snap at his outreaching fingers, Kenshin had to suppress a slightly disappointed sigh.

_Katsura-san would never be that careless. I should know better. _

Though tastefully decorated, the room did not have a clock, but the ex-hitokiri could guess from the sight out of the window that it had to be at least mid-morning. Which could only mean one thing…

"Kuso!"

…he missed school.

Now that was unacceptable; the school office should have called his home by now for his unexplained absence, and no one was going to answer it. There was always the danger of drawing too much attention to himself; of the Mibu picking him out from the others…Saitou was hard enough to deal with, he didn't want a Death by Explosive Chemicals dealt to him by the First Shinsengumi captain. Himura slammed a fist against the wall, suddenly bristling with helpless rage. _What_ did Katsura want with him, anyway, when the revolution was over? What right did the man have, to mess his life up like that?

He really hated that man, he realized.

"I'm going to kill you for this, Katsura-san." It was not a vow but a mere expression of wrath; "kill" was a word the ex-Battousai had banished from his dictionary long ago. Nevertheless, the student was somewhat startled when he was graced with a response.

"…though I doubt the possibility of that occurrence." Katsura's reply was smooth and sophisticatedly worded. That reminded Kenshin – the man had sparred with words ten times more often than he did with swords. "For if you have considered taking my life, you would have done so; and even if you tried, you wouldn't have succeeded." He stared pointedly at the gauze covering his once-subordinate's cheek.

For this, Kenshin had no answer; words were obviously something he was never good at. Getting to the point, however, he thought he could manage.

"What do you want?" He turned around with eyes narrowed with enmity, noting dimly that Katsura had abandoned his formal suit in favour of more casual attire. Katsura, expectedly, was unfazed.

"A rather reckless decision on your part, enrolling into that school. Couldn't say I wasn't surprised… I should think you're not unfamiliar with Kondo Isamu and what he is capable of, Himura," Katsura continued, ignoring the question directed at him. He had his own planned course of conversation, and Himura wasn't going to disrupt it until all that he wanted to know had been duly filled in.

The teenager's hand clenched into a fist and unclenched, giving Katsura the blatant impression that he longed for a sharp object – his katana, maybe - to stab his superior in the guts. The hard amethyst eyes, framed by a waterfall of carnelian, did not look much more approachable either.

"Maybe I'm slightly suicidal, Katsura-san. Does that make it your business?" Sarcasm was definitely not his specialty; it sounded lame and childish, even to his own ears. But Kenshin didn't feel up to offering any witty barbs right now – he felt as though Kyoto had just collapsed upon his skull. He was just contemplating the idea of flooring the president with a hard punch and making a dash for school – couldn't help if he was late by an hour or two – when Katsura sank onto the leather couch across the room, facing the redhead with an air that marked the starting of negotiation.

"Alright, Himura. I'm sure you want to know why I wish to see you…and of course, I am also aware that you are late for school. It has been…taken care of." It was said in perfect seriousness; Katsura was all business in a second, regarding the emotionless façade before him with ebony eyes. Kenshin's stoic expression did not waver, so he continued.

"I have certain things that should draw your attention. The murder at Tsutoki High's laboratory…Sekihara Sae, for example." Kogoro glanced over, and saw the violet eyes widen in that instance. He'd hit on the right words, for sure. "But before that, I have just one question to ask you. A fair exchange of information, don't you think?"

The boy was silent, his gaze fixed on the window. But Katsura knew that he was hanging on to his every word; knew that he was thinking the offer over. It must have haunted the boy - that someone died _because_ of him, that someone was still after him, relentless and unyielding despite his best efforts at camouflage. Katsura knew that he was playing on the soft part of the ex-hitokiri's heart. He did not consider the tactic immoral; it was a necessary part of negotiation.

"Why are you in Tsutoki High?"

The simple question caught the boy off guard; he had, perhaps, been expecting something harder to answer – if he was going to answer at all. "I…wanted _out_. I want to live like someone my age is supposed to…not hanging around _pretending_ to be a normal person. To get a life, I suppose." He looked away; the words were wrenched from the depth of his mind. Katsura was the last person he wanted to confess to, but he didn't have a choice, as things were. "Shishou and I agreed that Kyoto is the safest place for me to stay, at least for the time being."

_True. The most dangerous place is always the last place that your enemies would expect you to be in._

Katsura considered the notion for a second, watching the boy closely for any sign of untruth. Kenshin was never good at lying; it always set his features the colour of his flaming locks whenever he did that. It was a rather sweet trait, Katsura supposed.

"No other reasons?"

The student made a faintly disgusted noise. "No."

The president leant a hand thoughtfully on the sofa's armrest, as if considering how to word his next discussion point. He wondered how far he could push the conversation before the boy could not bear it anymore, and erupted into a violence that was beyond the young hitokiri's nature. That would result in dire injury on Kenshin's part rather than his own, given the curse, but was entirely unnecessary anyway. He wasn't particularly enthused in reducing the boy to a soulless puppet for no reason other than self-defense.

"Himura…you know the name Tokugawa Yoshinobu. The former president of the Tokugawa government who…stepped down from power at the end of the civil war."

_Stepped down from power_…that was a nice, presentable phrase. Kenshin felt anger flaring up again within him. But he _knew_ – after all, wasn't it he who did it? Or was it him? The recollections were glazed over, as if he were seeing them through a glass pane – faint, surreal, and always lingering between consciousness and fantasy.

"_Himura-kun! What are you doing? What happened…why are you…? "_

_Step, step. Another step, the clank of a katana being drawn from its sheath. Silence reigned._

"_I shall deliver Tenchu." A flat, deadly tenor that matched the katana in its sharpness. "Tokugawa Yoshinobu, you will die tonight for your sins against the people." _

_And what sins were those? He couldn't remember, wasn't particularly concerned that he couldn't. It was not his job to memorize things that got in the way of work._

"_NOOOOOOO!"_

_Amber eyes flashing in the dark. Blood, splattering all over his navy gi, staining the carpet a dull crimson as it spread over the floor. _

"_TOUSAN!"_

_Footsteps, a child's figure appearing in the doorway. Tears shimmering as the kid ran to kneel by the corpse; he contemplated doing away with the poor little soul, but something in his conscience stopped him. Instead, he swept away through the open window as the shadow he was._

Memories spun to the night before. The child's voice…it had been saying something; conveying something in that otherworldly serenity of his. _He_ was a child too…why were their voices so different then? Were they even creatures of the same species?

"_Have your soul been stolen, hitokiri?"_

**I'm sorry…I didn't mean to do this…I'm sorry…!**

"Himura." Katsura's tone was alarmed; he reached forward, giving the young man a slight shake. "Battousai!"

Seeing his companion through dilated pupils, Kenshin collected enough wits to swat Katsura's hand off his shoulders. He took a deep breath, the blank façade barely in place. There was one thing he was sure though – he _didn't_ need to break down in front of this particular bastard.

"I know the name." Himura was glad his voice didn't crack from overwhelming emotions. Kogoro retracted back to his couch, wearing an expression that was…was that _concern_? Kenshin promptly decided that the headache, plus the untimely flashback, were giving him hallucinations; Katsura's features were back to its usual nonchalance within a heartbeat.

"Good. The deal is here: Tokugawa Yoshinobu left behind a son who, according to certain intelligence, has remained in Kyoto under a false alias. In fact," he leant forward to look the teenager in the eyes, "it is our belief that he has sought refuge in Tsutoki High…the Shinsengumi's lair."

Kenshin started.

"Who that exact person is, and what he's thinking of doing under the Mibu's wings, we still have no idea. That is why I need you, Himura. I want you to pinpoint the last Tokugawa kin for me. We have adequate proof that he may be plotting a rebellion against the current government."

The boy came to his feet, bristling fiercely. He swayed at the sudden movement, catching himself as he laid a hand on the couch's back. "You want me to hand you an innocent boy just because he may jeopardize your position? You are a sadistic, power-hungry bastard, Katsura-san."

Katsura didn't even wince at the accusation. "I'll do anything if it means that the state may remain stable and powerful," he parried quietly. _I'll do anything, even if it means having to use a teenager as a pawn. _

"And why should I do that?" Kenshin's tone was cold, shaking involuntarily with fury. A lesser man would have found it intimidating; Katsura only raised his chin, surveying the boy with mild interest.

"There are only two ways to do the job. One, send a spy in and locate the rebel. Two, uproot the whole school and annihilate the enemy. Which would you prefer, Himura?"

Kenshin was silent for a moment. Then, without warning, he lunged for Katsura, intending to punch the long-hated man in the ribs. There was no way, none in the world, that he'd be blackmailed into doing such a thing!

Katsura only responded by narrowing his eyes…the next thing Kenshin knew, the room was tilting at a crazy angle; his vision slipping out of focus as a familiar pain sprang forth from its dormant state. Some part of him registered the softness of the carpet beneath him; Katsura's words filtered into the hazy conscious.

"One day, Himura. I'm giving you one day to consider."

_One day._

Sometimes, Himura Kenshin wondered if his road to repentance really led to nowhere but infinity.

**Glossary:**

Kuso: all-purpose curse word

kun: a honorific used when addressing a close friend or a younger person


	6. Fragility

**Final Chess Piece by Hitokiri-san**

**A/N: FINALLY! The exams took the life out of me (can you imagine having to _sit _home for a month without touching the computer, all the while facing the same book on Chinese History for six whole days?) But yes, I'm back, and the hiatus is no more. I know that I haven't been updating very regularly; exam has that effect. It'll get better now, I'm positive. And greetings to my readers after such a long while! As always, constructive criticism and reviews are welcome!

* * *

**

_Right, wrong, justification. A person of my profession would quickly learn that the world dabbles in shades of grey; the matter of right or wrong depends entirely on how it is justified. Justification is the art of mixing white or black into the mass of grey, a political art that I have never believed in. _

* * *

" Katsura-san…Katsura-san? The next meeting will start in ten minutes." The demure, gentle voice, accompanied by the sound of shifting papers, was barely enough to wake him from his thoughtful trance. Tired, dark eyes lifted from the floor, and were unsurprised to see the trim figure standing directly in front of him, arms circled around a clipboard with a distinctly patient air.

Katsura considered chasing his secretary away with irritable words, but quickly vetoed that idea. His logical self told him that it was not a necessary action; a brief narrowing of his eyes had already informed the sensitive lady that yes, he_ knew_ very clearly there would be some sort of meeting – he couldn't even remember what, but he could always check – tonight, and no, he welcomed neither the reminder nor her interruption of his musings.

However, the worthy woman could not be blamed for his dark mood, and Katsura could only give her a terse, subdued nod as acknowledgement.

"Thank you, Ikumatsu. I will be there." He watched his assistant depart, leaning his head against an open palm as he made an effort to retrace his pattern of thoughts.

It was getting annoying, in a way, how the meaningless meetings managed to catch up with him even when he was currently out of capital. Couldn't the idiots do _anything _without his advice? He already had his hands full with Himura – the boy wasn't remotely _easy _to deal with, even if Katsura had the advantage of the curse. And whatever people thought, the curse wasn't all-powerful – it simply wasn't the best way to control a person. He had to take into account the boy's psyche, pull the right strings, coax and threaten at different intervals to get Himura to work. The morning's meeting had been disastrous enough, having to resort to downright death threats; the president wanted no repetition of such a mistake. There was, after all, no point in driving the lad up the wall if there were other alternatives.

The Tokugawa kid was planning something behind their backs; trying to undermine the Meiji government, most probably. Katsura could think of ten different possibilities concerning that plan, but none were particularly convincing. However, the gut feeling that something imminently dangerous was being schemed against the government left him in constant worry…he _needed _Himura in order to unveil that mystery. He'd worked so long to achieve the cause – they all had, Himura included. He was not going to let the fruit of their combined efforts lie in ruins.

"Aren't you in a funky mood, Kogoro." Katsura didn't even bother to trace the owner of the voice; there was only one person in this world that could address him with such informality – and one person who could walk into his office unannounced. Sporting an untamed smirk, Takasugi leaned against the office wall; his eyes, dark and narrow and analyzing, scrutinized his friend in deliberate minuteness.

Katsura ignored him, languidly pretending to read the paperwork on his desk. Justification was not needed; he was not in a good mood, and his friend simply had to deal with it. Not to mention that he had a meeting within five minutes, before which he_ really_ had to finish reading that file.

For a while, the sound of ruffling documents dominated the room, until Takasugi spoke up again, this time far more seriously.

"You're giving him a redundant threat, aren't you?"

Katsura did not look up; the "who" and "what" in Takasugi's statement was not lost on him. He pondered his own response for a while before releasing it in soft, composed words.

"I knew he would not doubt its likelihood." There was a pause, in which Katsura stacked up the papers and gathered them back into the file. "He would do as I say as long as I hold the entire population in Tsutoki High as hostages." There was no triumph in his voice, merely the flatness of stating a fact. He knew Himura too well, after all…three years of manipulating the child had allowed him to know the boy like the back of his hand. Himura could be so predictable, sometimes, and his predictability gave Katsura the leverage to dominate over him.

Katsura knew, for one thing, that conscience had often blinded Kenshin to the most obvious of things. The threat to annihilate all in Tsutoki High was blatantly empty, as a person of Himura's intelligence should have noted. How would it look to the public, after all, if the Meiji government suddenly decided to massacre a thousand schoolchildren in order to locate one hidden spy? The Meiji government was under enough pressure already; it didn't need to raise more trouble for itself. The new government had also promised, right after its establishment, that past political feuds would be forgiven and forgotten - a very appealing lie. How would it look, then, if the government were intent on murdering the last Tokugawa kin – the son of the prior president?

Kenshin had not stopped to consider, much to Katsura's expectation. Conscience had lent the boy his incentive to be powerful; it was only fitting that conscience would hamper his judgment in one way or another. Which was only appropriate for Katsura's blackmailing to hold the boy in place.

Everything was going according to his plans. Yet…

"Yet you do not feel well about it." Takasugi spoke his sentiments out loud. Katsura rose, packing the file into his suitcase. He considered saying something, gave up, and started towards the door. It disturbed him slightly when Takasugi becameuncannily insightful at events like this.

It disturbed him more to know that Takasugi was only too right – he actually felt _guilty_ for what he'd done to the boy. Hell, maybe he was developing a conscience on par with that of Himura's. _That_ was totally unnecessary - for him, and for the government. Himura was neither his family nor his current subordinate – Katsura had no reason to be so concerned. After all, he'd never had any emotional ties with the teenager, be it past or present. Himura…no, Battousai…was merely his pawn.

_Those violet eyes, hard and incriminating and just **so** full of hatred, raised an unsettling feeling at the pit of his stomach. The boy's face had gone blank, like a flat sheet of paper, yet the hatred was clearly revelatory; through his eyes, his posture, the very aura he gave off. _

_The boy hated him. And he, in turn, did not care. _

At least that was what he kept telling himself.

"You care for him, and you know it. That's not a sin, Kogoro." He was brushing past Takasugi then, fine fabric meeting a much coarser one. The president stopped, startled, and stared sideways at his comrade.

_Pain. That feeling had to be pain; though in his mind, pain was too irrational. It was almost out of Himura's ability to properly hate someone – the mildness of the lad's temper belied greatly the lethal art in his possession - yet he'd achieved it. He'd earned the boy's complete hatred, and there was no turning back. Kenshin would continue to hate him. He in turn would carry on manipulating the boy. The vicious cycle would continue -there was simply no other way out, for him or for Himura. The Meiji government and its people was his priority; Himura was trivial when compared to the above. He could not concurrently attend to the interests of both. _

_In this light, caring for the hitokiri **was** a sin. _

"I will use him. He's one of the pieces on my chess board; nothing more, nothing less." Heartless words that didn't signify anything; Katsura twisted the doorknob with a little more force than he intended.

"I see." Takasugi relented, and Katsura was secretly grateful. When had he started avoiding things that he'd rather ignore in his life, anyway? It wasn't like him at all. Then again, sulking wasn't like him at all ether; which he was currently doing.

Himura Battousai was getting him all too emotional, it seemed.

He would have left his friend alone in the office and went on to his arranged meeting if Takasugi had kept his peace. Instead, a stifled snort of laughter behind him made Katsura raise an inquiring eyebrow to his smirking friend.

"Is there something else you need to inform me of, Takasugi?"

"You truly believe in burying personal thoughts for a greater cause, don't you." The latter's smirk tilted to a wider angle. "If I recall correctly, you gave Himura one day to consider your proposal. I think I'm giving you a night – both of you need to reconsider your lives." He put up a hand to stop further retorts when Katsura faced him with a baffled frown. "Oh, and I've cancelled that damn useless meeting for you, Kogoro. It seems to me that you need a break."

Katsura glanced at his hand on the doorknob, then the file he had in hand, and nailed his friend with a very unfavourable glare.

* * *

When Shishio returned from his private hot spring, humming softly under his breath, he found Soujiro hunched over his desk, a pen in hand, poring over what happened to be a piece of Mathematics assignment. The boy's unusual activity seemed to have attracted the attention of his fellow comrades - Kamatari had draped himself over the back of Soujiro's chair, enquiring idly on random formulas that caught his interest; Houji was eyeing the teenager with obvious distaste, as though he considered being associated with someone on the level of high school Mathematics a grave enough insult to his intelligence. Soujiro paid little attention to both, black pen dotting down equation after equation as he went on with his task.

"Hm…this angle could be calculated by the cosine law." A heavily bandaged hand tapped on the figure beside the handwritten workings; Soujiro tilted his head to see Shishio looming over him, an amused smirk hanging on his lips. The dark-haired boy smiled radiantly in greeting, bending down again to add the finishing touches on his piece of work.

"It seems to me that the Tenken is more engrossed in his school life than his mission, Shishio-sama." Houji commented sourly as Soujiro packed his Mathematics notebook into his backpack, and promptly pulled out what seemed to be a Chemistry textbook. His boss smirked, an utterly lopsided curve gracing burnt lips.

"So it seems. Soujiro, how are your dear classmates doing?"

Soujiro murmured under his breath as he laid out a periodic table, eyes flickering briefly through the numbers. "Himura-san is absent, so I have to do the lab report all by myself. Fever, it seems."

"I see." The bandage-wrapped figure replied smoothly, settling cross-legged on a cushion as Yumi bustled around to get him wine. "Who exactly contacted the school for him?"

Soujiro considered it for a moment, pen poised over his book. "I suppose it was Ikumatsu-san, the president's secretary."

* * *

_He leaned against the wall of a restroom cubicle, earpiece fitted snugly against his ear. The phone rang, and was picked up before long. _

_"Tsutoki High, school office. How may I help you?" Soujiro could discern the soprano squeak of the office lady, young and shy and utterly nervous every time she picked up the phone. _

_The female voice on the other end made him frown; it was eerily familiar, in its slow, languid pace and formal choice of words. "Good morning, I am the guardian of Himura Kenshin…yes, Himura Kenshin of 5B…he will not be able to attend the school today because of a high fever." _

_Something in his mind clicked. _

_"I see. I'll inform Yumi-sensei of this. Good day to you." The line went dead, and Soujiro grimaced. He'd tapped onto the school line long enough to know that the office lady was – very obviously – not a Miburo. Her lack of caution with questionable calls proved her identity - she seemed oblivious to the fact that Himura had no local relatives, nor guardians of any sort. _

_Himura Kenshin, according to school records, was the adopted (or was it illegitimate? No one had thought of asking.) son of a political bigwig. One thing that attested to it was his inexplicably huge amount of money. He had an apartment of his own, which - though not overly luxurious - was decent enough, and was equipped with more security gadgets than any ordinary schoolboy would think of putting into his home._

_After further investigation, the school finally conceded that Himura **did** have a connection with a political figure; the man himself had approached the school two months ago; stating, very clearly, that he did not appreciate his son being harassed by incessant background checks – the boy was to be left to himself and treated with the same treatment that all other students received. _

_The only thing they didn't know was that Katsura had sent "the man" there. As for Kenshin, he never knew that he had been granted a second "father" in the first place. _

It was a shame, Soujiro decided, that the Miburo hadn't already known Himura for who he was. It was pretty obvious when one looked at it, actually. To have chosen this school, and to have hidden from his foes for this long… Battousai had to be either a genius or a complete idiot. Possibly both.

"Ah, that whore. I see that Katsura isn't quite finished with his pet hitokiri yet." Pure hatred curled at Shishio's lips at the mention of his most hated enemy. Charcoal fingers continued their tap dance on the cushion, an idle gesture. "Have you located the Tokugawa brat yet, Soujiro?"

There was a pause as Soujiro's perpetual smile diffused slightly, and it made Shishio's brows quirk. Having no emotions, Soujiro was seldom upset at anything, nor was there anything that truly pleased him. But the little slip in emotions had told the man all he needed – Seta was intrigued, and fairly annoyed.

"No, sir. I cannot be sure." He stopped there, rejoining only when Shishio eyed him steadily. "I have thought that whoever he was would be in contact with Himura-san a lot; but up to now, I have no means of pinpointing the exact person. I am starting to think that…"

"…the intelligence is false, and Tokugawa is either nonexistent or not in Tsutoki High in the first place." Shishio finished the line for his subordinate, who quickly ducked down to face his homework. "That is understandable. Yet, Soujiro…use your ki. It will never lead you wrong."

Soujiro nodded in understanding, letting his pen roll across the table as he rose from his seat.

"I'll go practice now. If you don't mind, sir."

Shishio dismissed him with a lazy wave, not even bothering to look up as the door clicked shut behind the teenager.

He didn't bother to ask where the boy had hidden his katana, either.

* * *

When night came, Kenshin had become increasingly antsy. Having successfully roused himself from a troubled sleep earlier on, the boy had spent some time worrying at a solution that didn't include gutting Katsura – not that it was possible, anyway; the man was near immortal as far as he was concerned - getting the Tokugawa kid killed, or having Tsutoki High go up in flames just because he'd refused Katsura outright. 

It was at times like this that he yearned for the comfort of his katana.

Katsura was nowhere to be seen after his last visit, and, left entirely to himself to weigh his choices, the teenager felt as if he was trapped once again in the waking nightmare of his past, trudging down a path that he'd never consented to, but was forced into because _it was necessary. _

Too many things were termed necessary, but were not, he thought.

At least someone had had the grace to move him back to the bed, a part of his mind consoled, and the ex-hitokiri massaged his cheek lightly. The cross scar seemed to have split open again, all thanks to Katsura's interference (or was it his own brashness?), but was recuperating with an almost inhuman speed. Kenshin couldn't bring himself to be surprised under the circumstances.

The truth, he acknowledged, was that he didn't have a choice in the matter. It was either the Tokugawa child alone or the whole school, and Katsura had made it rather clear which he would prefer. Kenshin was hardly friends with the Miburo, and didn't even know the Tokugawa kid; but he had no wish to harm them. They were his enemies once, yes, but he had never hated them. Katsura had foreseen his softness of heart once again.

_You have too soft a heart for a hitokiri,_ Takasugi had once told him. It once disturbed him to find out that it was true.

He would not be manipulated this time. If he could inform his master of this conspiracy, could warn the remaining Tokugawa kid of his imminent fate…

He had to get out of here first. He could feign agreement to Katsura's proposal and sort things out his own way. Katsura could control his mind and soul, but there was no way the man could know his inner thoughts, too. Tokugawa, whoever he was, would hate him once he realized that he was Battousai; would want to kill him for daring to live on after all he'd done. That could not be avoided; it was the path he'd consented to, if not chosen, and he was ready to shoulder whatever blame the world was to fling onto his shoulders.

Kenshin made up his mind at that moment.

* * *

A day, by Katsura's standard, obviously did not consist of twenty-four hours; he was back before the clock struck twelve to find Kenshin sprawled over the couch, arms crossed. Somehow, the Meiji president was not surprised. He doubted that Kenshin would simply go to sleep after the entire ordeal.

"So, Himura. Have you made up your mind?" It might be his imagination, but Katsura was looking more haggard than usual - as if the man was _tired_ of dealing with him already, and wanted him out of his sight. Which wasn't even possible.

Amethyst eyes gleamed in the dark, and settled on Katsura in form of a glare. It occurred to the Choshu leader that Kenshin hadn't bothered to switch on the lights after dark.

"I agree to your proposal, Katsura-san. I will find the Tokugawa kin for you…but you will promise not to harm any of the innocents." The flickering gaze turned and vanished, presumably covered by the flaming bangs in the dark.

Fixing his eyes on the silhouette huddled in the dark, Katsura wondered why a part of him wanted badly for the hitokiri to refuse.

* * *

**Rejuvenation of Fire:** Thanks for your prompting, or else I'd never have known that someone out there is waiting for an update. The reason for my late update is my public exam; which I have explained in my bio…I'm sorry if it offends you or anything. Real life just tends to get in the way 

**Nekotsuki:** I'm aware that I'm probably posting this while you're still beta-ing another copy…and this chapter must be full of mistakes of some kind as per usual. Forgive me! I'm just too eager to update…thanks for your help as always. I've finally realized that I've been mixing up "discrete" and "discreet" (blushes and stares off somewhere)…

**Bakabokken:** yeah, I've experienced emotional tumult during the exam…stress, I think. Keeps dreaming about failing the exam, and things like that. I'm SO glad it's over…you might be having an exam while I'm updating this thing…exams are just evil. Do your best too, and don't forget to review me when you have the time! And just a PS, what is Bourne Identity?

Kik-ting: thanks for your compliment; I've been thinking a while on why someone like Kenshin would want to go to school, especially when it involves risks. 

**Streetwise Girl: **I've been having a headache on how to place the girls, especially Kaoru and Tomoe, without turning it into a romance fic, so I've left them out on purpose. And I'm running out of cliffhangers. Practically…

**A lilmatchgirl: **Shishio would be thanking you for your generous support, until you find that he isn't doing kindness to our little redhead, either…and thanks for giving the luck, I've been utilizing it well in the exam. o I didn't mean to make Katsura _that_ evil, it was an accident…I'm trying to justify for him this chapter. I meant him to be a grey character, yes, like everyone in the story including Kenshin himself. But that won't stop anyone from standing on his side, anyway…

**xZig-zagx: **I would love this story to be in your community…I consider it an honor. I see that you have many good fics in the community, too; many are my personal favourites. So feel free to put anything I posted up to your community!

**Shauntell: **Actually, I am a dudette despite my penname…and about Kaoru, I'm not entirely sure about it. Thanks for your review anyway.

**NARGIEGIRL21: **Your compliments make me rather proud… you like Katsura x Kenshin? Never thought about that one before…shrug still, one can try it out. And anyway, what is Koto?

**Sakabatoushunuchi:** we will be seeing more of Sou-chan yet…seems as if he isn't the most loyal friend of Ken-nii…

**Night-Owl123**: thanks for the encouragement, I'm trying to update as regularly as possible…

**Lucrecia LeVrai:** nice to see you again after some months! I hope you haven't been waiting long…sorry to have kept you waiting!


	7. Cynicism

**Final Chess Piece by Hitokiri-san**

**A/N: To say that I have posted this chapter during my mid-year exam would probably contradict my intended excuse of business. But as this is the case, I am left with no excuses at all. **

**I am now hopelessly infatuated with Gundam Seed and its protagonist, the loveable Kira Yamato. But…um…that should be unrelated to my unexceptionally slow pace of updating, really.**

**Now that FF net has banned review responses in a chapter, I will henceforth reply to reviews privately. Thanks for all your support! I really appreciate it.

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_Staring death in the face is not a man's greatest fear, for there is certainty in the knowledge that one would pass on to the next world. A person like me would have prepared for it once he steps onto the battlefield. The greatest fear, instead, lies in the uncertainty of a human heart. _

_The greatest fear is to stare a trusted friend in the face and wonder whether he would turn enemy tomorrow. _

**Chapter 7 Cynicism**

Kenshin found it inexplicably strange that Katsura would offer him a ride home after the whole kidnapping ordeal.

It wasn't that he doubted the president's generosity. Kenshin knew, for a fact, that Katsura could be very generous to his pawns – or his subordinates, as it pleased Kogoro to call them. It could be seen as the man's personal investment, if one considered things in the economic way; the more charitable Katsura was to his men, the greater the chance that those men would prove serviceable to him in the near future. Having a firsthand experience of this political tactic in the past, Kenshin thought that he could see the logic in the act.

But…Himura glanced briefly from his freshly laundered uniform to the expertly done Chemistry homework in his lap, before staring fixedly at the broad set of shoulders blocking his line of sight. Someone had painstakingly taken out the bloodstain from his shirt while he was in captivity; it looked clean and crisp, as if the fight before had never happened in the first place. Katsura had even bullied someone into doing his homework for him. (and how on earth did the man know that he _needed_ that report tomorrow? Kenshin wasn't sure that he wanted to know.) The handwriting was suspiciously akin to his own, the report expertly written. It was as though the writer were more accustomed to writing reports on nuclear development than those concerning basic concepts like speed of sound and light, which, as the boy knew, could be the case. Himura wondered if the writer felt intellectually insulted when he was assigned this task.

All these small gestures, these little acts of kindness seemed somehow _wrong_ to his instincts. Katsura did not have to please Kenshin as there was no point in doing so – the young man hated every inch of his guts and he understood it well enough. Blackmailing and threatening, on the other hand, worked on the ex-hitokiri like a charm. Additionally armed with the cross scar's curse, the Choshu leader could expect his former manslayer to be at his beck and call at every available moment.

He didn't need to ensure that Himura was comfortable and happy; there was nothing to gain in doing that.

It was one of those frustrating times when Kenshin found that he had no way of reading into his former superior's line of thought – the maxim of "knowing thy enemy" seemed utterly inapplicable whenever Katsura was concerned. The Choshu leader's mind was tuned on such a complicated track that the boy often wondered if Katsura could understand himself fully.

Just then the car gave a great lurch; Kenshin was sent slamming against the side window just as Takasugi grinned sideways at him from the driver's seat, one hand resting against the steering wheel. It was apparent, by the man's amused expression, that it was no mere accident.

"The road's a bit rough, isn't it, boy? By the way, we've reached your place," Takasugi announced, earning himself a glare that would have made an entire forest wither. It was good to know that some things in the world never changed – Katsura's incessant formality and Himura's Look of Doom were decent enough examples. It was sometimes difficult to visualize that underneath the eternal stolidity and deadly glares, there was indeed a young boy's soul residing in Himura's body.

Retracting his gaze reluctantly, Kenshin moved to open the car's door, only to find that it was locked from the inside. He didn't make a second attempt at yanking the door's handle – he was obviously smarter than that - it didn't surprise Takasugi when those hard amethyst eyes left the car door and snapped back to his face in an accusatory manner. It was nearly enough to make him feel guilty.

"And what do _you_ want, Takasugi-san?"

The emphasis on the word "you" told Takasugi that Himura had said the same thing to Katsura upon their reunion, probably delivered in a rather hostile tone. Given that Takasugi himself hadn't crossed the boy in any way yet, be it physical or literal, he found Himura's cynicism totally uncalled for. Annoyed, he frowned heavily at the younger boy.

" See here, _boy_. I don't care if you were the Hitokiri Battousai, or that you'll probably make mincemeat out of me once you get your katana. I have something to say, and I'll make sure that you listen up." He leant over the front seat, staring his passenger in the eyes. The teenager was leaning back calmly, the godforsaken cynicism apparent on his face. At least he was paying attention; and for Takasugi, that was already more than he could hope for.

" Well, let's talk about your earlier agreement with Katsura, shall we?" Takasugi began conversationally. " When I think about it, it's pretty apparent that you're _not _going to stick to our plan like a good boy; submission isn't your cup of tea. One day or another, you're going to stage a counterattack against us. I know it, you know it – and if you think Katsura hasn't thought of it yet, you are kidding yourself." His lips twitched a little, a taunting gesture. The boy's countenance was once again a blank - clear proof that his words had hit home. Contrary to popular belief, Himura was curiously predictable when it came to conspiracies. It wasn't as if the boy lacked brains; he simply came short of the professional cunning that only age could bring. It wasn't something that could be helped, and Takasugi planned to make the most of it.

Satisfied with the reaction displayed, Takasugi pressed on.

"But then, it's common for schoolboys to rebel against their elders at this age – I won't consider you any different. Tell me, do you want Katsura dead? Are you going to bring the night's event to your master so that he can deal with your enemy once and for all? It would be a good way to put an end to this crisis, wouldn't it?" The man winked nonchalantly, as though Katsura's fate had nothing to do with him. The ex-hitokiri saw through the facade immediately.

"Yes." A one-word admittance, delivered as though stating an ordinary fact. Kenshin hadn't hesitated in the least – his answer wasn't going to change anything, and he knew it. He wanted Katsura dead, yet he did not – it went against his nature to take someone's life in sheer selfishness, even if that "someone" was the infamous Katsura Kogoro. Well, maybe wanting Katsura to "vanish from his sight" would be a better way to put it. That was just wishful thinking and he knew it. So, up to the current moment, how to deal with Katsura was one major problem that he still had to dwell upon.

He wasn't going to explain all this to the man before him.

"I see."

Takasugi wasn't sure if this candidness of the boy's was a virtue or a sin. It wasn't unexpected, though, and it was his job to deal with the problem at hand. The boy shouldn't be allowed to carry this homicidal attitude back into the house – things had been ugly enough. It would definitely get uglier with Hiko Seijuro's interference. He was sure of that.

The lights were off at the Himura household, indicating the absence of people in the house. Takasugi glanced out of the car window, contemplating. The young killer was a silent presence behind; waiting, anticipating - trying to catch the flow of the situation. Somehow the tension between them prompted him to say words that he had not measured thoroughly beforehand. He would probably regret it later; but for now, sincerity ought to work best for the boy behind him.

"Believe me or not, Himura, I think I understand what you're feeling. You hate Katsura, because he had betrayed your trust in the past, because he is disrupting your current life. That I cannot blame you – it is human nature to eliminate those that you dislike, those that stand in your way. But have you ever considered…how it would affect the nation if say, one day, Katsura was found dead in his office?"

Kenshin was mute – this wasn't something that he would normally consider in actual terms. Though wishing him dead was one big fantasy among his enemies, killing Katsura in reality was a task next to impossible. Sometimes, disregarding the factor of the curse, Kenshin had wondered idly if **_he_** – the former Hitokiri Battousai - could accomplish this particular job, getting past all the strict security measures; and he came to the conclusion that no, even as the darkest assassin in history, he couldn't.

That alone gave proof to Katsura's ultimate immortality.

"I see that this idea never came into your mind. Katsura seems undefeatable to you, doesn't he? Young and wise, the utmost leader of the country. But I know…I alone would know…how vulnerable he could be. I know that you, boy, are not the only assassin that prowled the places after dark. We have assassins in our employment; why shouldn't our enemies?

"That is why I fear for his safety, fear for the future of this country. The Meiji government is ever so fragile - we have political enemies all around us, waiting for the slightest weakness we display. If something were to happen to our president – anything at all – a civil war would be the bottom line. You ever thought of that?"

No, he hadn't. After the last war, his world had narrowed down to three things - him, his life, and his ideals. He had long since realized the idiocy in trying to revolutionize the world by himself – the last time he'd tried, he ended up being a disposable chess piece on Katsura's chessboard. He had hurt people mindlessly, bringing despair and pain instead of salvation. His master's words rang true to his ears – he could not hope to change the world all by himself; and by siding with any political force he would disrupt the balance of the world.

There was nothing he could do to change the world the way he wanted it; the only thing under his control was the direction his life took.

That was, at least, what he had thought before Katsura re-entered his life in an over-dramatic fashion.

"No, you haven't." Takasugi smirked, taking his silence as a negative. There was a stagnant pause as the man drove his point home. "So, you get to choose now. Do you mean to start a civil war on your own based on a personal grudge?"

Takasugi knew, as the car door at the rear seat banged shut behind the boy that his task had been more or less successful. In the boy's forced decision to draw his sword either against Katsura or Tokugawa's heir, Takasugi had barred the former option by one irrefutable point – Katsura's life was linked to those of the common people. The lives of Katsura and Tokugawa weren't two equal weights on either side of the scale.

Himura had listened, thought it over. Looked momentarily torn before throwing the car door open. He didn't even stop to consider when the door lock had been released.

He had understood Takasugi's intention.

As Kenshin's petite form disappeared behind the gate, Takasugi's smirk neutralized into a contemplative expression. And as the young assassin's troubled countenance appeared on the front door's surveillance camera, Hiko Seijuro's eyes narrowed into slits of flint.

* * *

"Himura."

Kenshin started, swerving around to meet the impassive eyes of Shinomori Aoshi. With his long, sweeping lab coat and stoic expression, Aoshi did look like one of those brooding scientists in a horror film, biding his time to dissect the hero alive at the appropriate moment. Maybe that was what he was going to do too…maybe **_he_** was the Tokugawa boy, waiting to strike at his most hated enemy – the Hitokiri Battousai – at a time he saw fit. That was why those ice-blue eyes only reflected the world around him, penetrated into others' mind; but never reflected his own soul, his intentions in life…

"Himura. What are you doing?"

Aoshi's eyes showed slight disbelief as he plucked the beaker from atop the Bunsen burner, ignoring the crackling sizzle it made as the beaker left the wire gauze. He shook the heated beaker experimentally.

"You do realize that it is alcohol in the beaker, do you?" Aoshi's inquiry was, like his face, unfailingly emotionless and flat.

"I thought it was water." Kenshin admitted dryly.

"Alcohol is highly flammable."

"I know, Aoshi; sorry for that. Maybe we can redo the experiment again?" He sighed, taking the beaker from Shinomori and emptying its contents into the nearest sink. Mistaking alcohol for water…maybe he really was losing it. Kenshin was glad that Okita's lab hadn't been set on fire due to his negligence; for all he knew, Okita might see it as Battousai's attempt to burn the whole school down. Now _that_ would be a ridiculous way to reveal his identity.

The teenager found that, after the last night's ordeal, he had no mind for trivial things like chemical experiments at all. It was as though the world around him had taken a dark turn – everything got him wary and every person around him seemed to bear sinister intentions.

Everyone he knew had the potential to be the hidden Tokugawa. And the least suspicious student in his class was fast becoming Katsura's spy. The Mibu wolves were on their move and he was about to be condemned.

He wondered how he could have lasted a single day at school with this cynical train of thought.

"You seemed bothered. Very."

It was very unlike Aoshi to reveal his observation of other people in actual words, and more unlike him to care about the emotions of those who surrounded him. Kenshin blinked at him as a light-blinded owl would – the taller boy's comment had him momentarily thrown. Unsure what to make of this statement, he turned to the old habit of staring directly into Aoshi's eyes. That was where he found his own response.

"You don't seem much better either. I think I would be correct in saying that it has nothing to do with the last Chemistry test." Himura's gaze was sharp and searching, his words treading on unsafe grounds. It was like walking blindfolded across a minefield, Kenshin mused. Either way, this three-sided stalemate among Katsura, Tokugawa and himself had to end, and it was up to him to take the initiative. If Aoshi was indeed Tokugawa – which his mind suspected and doubted at the same time – now was the time to know.

The taller boy regarded him with dangerously narrow eyes that reminded him of his own master, radiating strength and intelligence. If he had got the implication, he didn't show it; nor did he exhibit any degree of confusion. The redhead paused awkwardly at the lack of reaction – it seemed to him that his plan had backfired. Instead of getting clues from his dark-haired classmate, he was now giving himself away.

Ironically, it startled him to a certain degree when Aoshi decided to answer in the same coded language.

"Indeed. There are far more important things happening in the world than a mere school test. Things that can turn the world around are happening in our midst." The other boy's voice was low, unheard by all except one. Himura nodded, deliberately; now they were going somewhere at least

"It's good to hear. Let's be a bit more straightforward, Aoshi." The ex-assassin poked a decolorized leaf into the test tube; gaze sharp and intense as he absently attempted to redo his experiment. The leaf stuck wetly to the rim of the test tube, but this time, he left it there.

"_Who_ exactly are you?"

Flames from the Bunsen burner twinkled in those ice blue eyes, a grim smile tugging at Aoshi's lips as he perceived the question.

"So you _are_ the Hitokiri Battousai – I have thought that my instincts was wrong."

Kenshin flinched instinctively, but didn't retort. He was highly aware that Okita Souji was currently at the opposite end of the lab, checking on Soujiro and Kiyosato's progress; and though the Chemistry teacher was most certainly out of earshot, Kenshin couldn't suppress the feeling that Okita might somehow catch their conversation through some unknown form of telepathy.

It seemed, to Kenshin, that both of their instincts were instilled with radar-like accuracy. For while both boys had the skill to blend into the world of students with admirable perfection, they shone like a beacon in each other's consciousness; it was perhaps the aura of a skilled warrior that made the other stand out so – Kenshin wasn't completely certain. Just as the existence of the Mibu wolves had him perpetually on guard, the presence of Aoshi triggered a certain unexplainable _sense_ that nagged his mind often. Shinomori probably felt the same too.

"You haven't answered my question yet, Shinomori Aoshi…or can it be Tokugawa Aoshi?"

Before Aoshi could answer, or even put together one in his mind, the door to the Chemistry lab was thrown open by none other than Saitou Hajime, a sheathed katana in his hands. Behind him, Kondo Isamu and Hijikata Toshizo stood side by side, grave expressions on their faces.

Knowing a Red Alert when they saw one, Aoshi and Kenshin took a brief glance at each other before moving away simultaneously.

Across the lab, Okita started; he put down the pair of squeezers in his hands before hailing his comrades' attention. Kenshin noted, with bemused wariness, how those wide azure eyes narrowed down into dangerous slits in that instance. It was an unnerving sight indeed had he not seen Okita in battle mode before.

"Kondo-san. Hijikata-san."

He didn't address Saitou, but merely tilted his head at the lanky man enquiringly. Saitou didn't reply; the katana was out in an arc of silver as he wandered lazily to the center of the room.

"Listen, class. I have an announcement to make." Saitou's voice was deceptively casual; only the katana in his grasp suggested that he wasn't here for a class picnic proposal. Himura found himself freeze as the Miburo's gaze swept his way briefly before lighting on the opposite side of the room.

"The first one to move while I'm still in this room…" Saitou paused, as of opting to create a dramatic effect.

"…will find his head rolling across the floor."


	8. Checkmate

**Final Chess Piece by Hitokiri-san**

A/N: An amusing aspect of story-writing is that the story may suddenly decide to write itself and turn out so different from what you initially had in mind that you're left gaping at it.This chapter, I assure you, turns out to be the case.Thus if something unexpected orviolent DOES turn up, it ismost certainlynot my fault. (nods vigorously)

* * *

_In Literature, they always compare life to a game of chess. People make their moves, and are awarded accordingly by the appropriateness of their decisions. A bad move may result in an irrevocable loss. There is one aspect, though, in which the recurring game of life is different from chess._

_Real life, unlike chess, is never limited to only two players across the chessboard._

_

* * *

_

**Ch 8 Checkmate**

Fingers hovering above the switch, Kenshin contemplated the merits of leaving the lights in his living room off and heading straight to bed.

Thorough knowledge of his house and perfect control of his ki guaranteed that he could wander up to his bedroom without running into the television screen or tripping over a loose cable. Leaving the lights off, he reckoned, would be the perfect way to disregard the man currently leaning back on his sofa – he wouldn't have to face the scrutiny of those abyssal dark eyes, for starters. Better yet, the man might take the hint that he didn't want to be bothered and would leave him be.

And, if everything went according to his fantasy, the fated interrogation wouldn't come at all – he could pretend that nothing was out of the ordinary and go on with his normal life. He was tired, he had school tomorrow - and most importantly, he was tempted to evade the issue for as long as he could.

The logical part of him scoffed at the folly of such an action. There were lives – a few hundreds at least, plus a particular young boy - at stake, as Katsura had taken note to remind him. Refusing to accept the peril of the current situation wasn't going to do him any good. To deftly diffuse the time bomb imposed upon him was now his priority; the least he could do was to protect those innocent souls that had been taken hostage, albeit unknowingly.

That aside, he _did_ owe his master an explanation for his one-day disappearance – as his guardian and only living relative in this world, Hiko deserved as much. Given that he had hardly an idea about what to make of the situation, asking for his shishou's advice and assistance might even be a good idea. Visions of Katsura and Takasugi flitted tauntingly across his mind, and he frowned in meditation.

"_I want you to pinpoint the last Tokugawa kin for me. We have adequate proof that he may be plotting a rebellion against the current government."_

That was it; he could relate Katsura's plan to Hiko directly. He himself was powerless against Katsura's dominance, but the thirteenth master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu was a different story altogether. Hiko could easily dissolve the difficult situation; could shield him from being used as a pawn once again.

…Hiko could kill Katsura for him.

That thought chilled him to the bone though, in theory, it shouldn't have.If he revealed his capture at Katsura's hand or the choice he was forced to make, Hiko would promptly resort to drawing his katana. The way his master's eyes took on a predatory gleam whenever Katsura's name was brought up was not lost on the ex-assassin – the Physics teacher only needed one more reason to rid Katsura from the earth's surface and this would, undoubtedly, be the one. Homicide was a very serious crime indeed, especially when the target was the current president of Japan, but Kenshin was positive that such a trivial thing wasn't counted in Hiko's personal list of concerns.

Should he confess, then? Should he count on his master to make his life simpler? He was threatened, given no choice in a matter that concerned another young boy's life. Could anyone fault him for wanting to escape from a dilemma he couldn't solve, though he had tried his best to?

Apparently, he thought grimly, no one could. But it still didn't excuse him from the inevitable consequence his confession to Hiko would bring. Katsura would die; of that he was certain. Though his personal (and rather childish) opinion was that the world would probably be better off without Katsura, he couldn't ignore the obvious truth that Takasugi had thrust before him. The lanky man's words still reverberated in his ears, despicable yet true in every syllable.

"_Do you mean to start a civil war on your own based on a personal grudge?"_

Mouth thinning to a resolute line, Kenshin flicked the lights on.

Later, in the presence of four Miburo, he would remember how he had studiously avoided his master's gaze for the rest of the night, had repeated "I'm okay", "it's nothing" and other variants of that theme enough times that he was inclined to believe it himself. To his great amazement, Hiko had not pestered him with a single question – the master swordsman had merely touched the faint traces of his fading scar, tilted his head slightly, and quietly allowed him to utter his excuses. This unexpected turn of events unnerved the redheaded student immensely - Kenshin had the sneaking suspicion that Hiko had drawn his own conclusion even without his confession. At any rate, it was fine by him – if Hiko wasn't asking, he was automatically exempted from reliving his encounter with Katsura altogether. Kenshin had gone to bed fretful that night, fully prepared for another interrogation from either his master or the school when he woke up the next morning. He was, however, entirely unprepared for the shocking news that awaited him at Tsutoki High in the day to come.

Nothing, not even the sharpness of his warrior sense, could warn Kenshin of the tragic event that was about to unfold right before his face.

* * *

Trying to remain impassive in the face of Saitou's gleaming blade proved to be a more trying task than ever, given that Kenshin had seen for himself - more than a dozen times, in fact – how efficiently Saitou could spear a man on the end of his katana within a mere second with his gatotsu. At the corner of his vision, Kenshin could discern subtle tension in the set of Aoshi's shoulders as the taller boy regarded Saitou's sword steadily; the ex-hitokiri supposed that it was Aoshi's way of showing wariness. The other students were huddled in a nervous group, wide eyes fixing upon their PE teacher with unflattering astonishment. 

Due to prolonged heating, boiled water was beginning to spill down the side of Kiyosato's beaker, but the students remained where they were, not at all eager to test the validity of Saitou's threat. Saitou, seemingly satisfied, sheathed his sword and allowed Kondo to take his place in the middle of the lab.

There was veiled wrath in Kondo Isamu's countenance as he gazed around at the class in silence, hands rolled into loose fists at his side. His eyes met Kenshin's, and in that instance, both man and boy refused to break the eye contact. Through the eyes of his former nemesis, the boy had a sudden, fleeting feeling that Kondo had _known_ - had known his identity ever since the first time he set foot in the school. The Shinsengumi captain had only allowed him to roam free in order for the wolves to arrange a proper execution for his crimes.

Abruptly finding it difficult to breathe, the ex-assassin blinked and looked away. He could feel Aoshi's gaze directed at him, silently observing, and it evoked the familiar sense of being surrounded by a sea of hostile, sword-bearing enemies.

Once again facing the stunned students, Kondo spoke slowly and gravely, every word reverberating in the narrow space of the lab.

"Everyone, I want you to listen closely to what I have to say next. It is of utmost importance that you are able to understand this." Okita shifted uncomfortably at his side, recognizing the tone of voice the captain always used when delivering ill tidings. Kondo exhaled deeply, half sighing, before he continued.

"I am here now, as the principal of this school, to deliver the most terrible news to you all. Just now, during recess, a student in this class has been brutally murdered in the hall. His name…"

"…_is Sagara Sanosuke_."

A deafening buzz erupted in Kenshin's ears as he perceived the message. He could hear little of Kondo's words after the man had uttered that particular name - they meant nothing but incoherent syllables to him. His mind was reeling to digest the absurd information it had been given, and denial was quickly sinking in. It couldn't be true, couldn't be…the Miburo was surely mistaken. Or else they were trying to bait him on the spot, to trick him with the fake death of a friend…

Such tactics would not make sense in the slightest; his logic would have known it well under normal circumstances. But the ex-assassin couldn't bring himself to be emotionally detached – Sano was his friend, had always been kind, loyal and understanding towards him. The death of such a person, particularly if it had been a scheme by Battousai's enemies, was absolutely unthinkable.

He hadn't really thought much of Sano's absence in this lesson before Kondo's announcement - Kenshin, like most of his classmates, had presumed that Sano had merely escaped Okita's lessons by feigning some sort of sickness. It was typical Sano behaviour, nothing noteworthy at all - until now.

Shocked amethyst eyes observed the way Kondo's lips spelt out word after word, unable to register anything that had been said.

"…Fujita-sensei found the body in the hall right after recess…alerted the authorities…"

It was a scheme, and a dirty one at that, Kenshin decided, momentarily seized by a flaring anger. The Shinsengumi had dishonoured themselves by lying right to his face, had betrayed the respect of both their friends and foes. If they would sink so low in order to get at him, so be it…

"…a tragedy which none of us wanted to see, but I must ask you all to remain silent about the incident until official announcement. We wish to speak to you one by one in order to understand the situation better…" Kondo broke off as a young voice interrupted his words.A lithe, redheaded figure was speaking from the crowd, eyes hard and blazing as he delivered his own words.

"You are lying, Kondo-san. This whole thing is a lie and you know it."

The boy didn't know if he had cut Kondo off in mid-sentence rudely, and didn't particularly care at that moment. At his side, Shinomori's stare towards him carried prominent warning; Kenshin ignored him, eyes meeting with Kondo's directly for the second time within the day. The redhead's demeanor was cold with expressed fury; Kondo only raised a brow in mild interest, as if properly seeing him for the first time.

"You are Himura." It was not a question. Kondo didn't make a point of asking for the ex-assassin's name, merely announced it calmly as if it were perfectly natural for a principal to be able to memorize the names of every student within the school. Behind him, the light in Okita's eyes was now unreadable; it wasn't until the Chemistry teacher had stopped smiling that Kenshin realized how sharp his features were.

The teenager nodded, briefly, knowing that he had made an irrevocable mistake by letting his emotions get the better of him. It was very unlike him, he reflected, to lose his mind when faced with the death of someone close – not that he had many friends to begin with. He had been well trained, while he served the Ishin Shishi, to be indifferent in the face of personal losses. Being overly emotional would be a lethal mistake in his hitokiri years -and such a mistake, he acknowledged grimly, would probably kill him in the current circumstances.

Somehow, he found that the prospect of death didn't sound as repulsive to him as it should have been.

Kondo fell into silence, studying the young man with a contemplative expression that mirrored Okita's. When he addressed Kenshin, his tone was not unkind.

"Perhaps you would like to come with me first, Himura. I understand that you and Sagara have been close friends – it must be difficult for you to accept this. Hijikata, please watch over the class awhile." He motioned to Hijikata, who nodded in response, and turned towards the lab door.

Kenshinsuddenly found himself flanked by the first and third troop captains of the Shinsengumi. He stiffened instinctively, but Okita only gestured towards the door.

"Himura-san, please."

Defenseless and surrounded by enemies, Kenshin had little choice but to follow Kondo's lead. With the boy sandwiched loosely among them, the three Miburo started wordlessly towards the stairs; it was obvious, then, that they were heading towards the principal's office on the ground floor. Having cooled down considerably from his emotional turmoil, Kenshin was now able to contemplate his next course of action in tense silence. Should he, perhaps, feign ignorance to anything related to hitokiri Battousai? Given the present circumstances, he doubted that it would do him any good. Admitting that he _was_ Battousai, however, seemed such a ludicrous idea that he had to frown at the very thought.

That aside, he was hardly able to forget what he had been told about Sanosuke's death – the rational part of him reprimanded that there was little the Miburo could gain from lying about such a matter, and he was an idiot for reacting as he did. A jumble of "_who_", "_what_", "_why_" and "_how_" jostled for his attention at this line of thought; accompanied by a carefully restrained hysteria that belonged, undoubtedly, to the gentler, more vulnerable part of his mind. He fought them all down, knowing that they were but unconstructive sentiments that would disturb his judgment if he were allowed to dwell on them any longer.

That left him to wonder - since when did he have to battle down his own emotions before he could formulate a reasonable enough solution? In his Choshu days, even before Katsura had inflicted his curse on him, he had been so thoroughly emotionless that it was an asset he had taken for granted. He operated in a practical cause, not on his own passion, and this guaranteed stability and efficiency in his work. For the most part of his official career he had been acutely aware of the goal before him, the steps necessarily to achieve it, so that he had seldom hesitated whenever he was required to deliver the killing blow to those in his way. It felt immensely surreal, to the boy, that one single year of school life could revive his deadened emotions to such a degree.

He couldn't decide, under the present situation, if he should be wholeheartedly glad for this new discovery.

* * *

"There is something important about Sagara's death that I have not informed the class of, Himura, though I presume that you would have guessed it already." 

Facing Tsutoki High's principal with only a wooden desk between them, Kenshin was slightly taken aback that Kondo had started without much preamble. He hadn't known what to expect of the man beforehand, having seldom known him in any way, but his straightforwardness was more or less unexpected. He remained silent - both as a refusal to confirm Kondo's presumption and as an unspoken invitation for the man to continue. Kondo leveled his gaze at him; when he spoke, his tone was perfectly matter-of-fact.

"Sagara Sanosuke, like Sekihara Sae before him, is killed by a well-placed battoujutsu across the chest. There is also a cross scar carved on Sagara's left cheek, obviously the work of a katana."

The implication was hanging thick in the air; Himura wasn't completely able to mask the shock that flickered across his face, nor the tension that ran through his frame at that statement. At the side, Saitou and Okita's gazes were drilling holes in his skull; Kenshin could imagine the cold, incriminating expressions present on the two captains' faces even without looking at them. The redhead had to suppress a ridiculously childish impulse of standing up and declaring that _he didn't do it_ – that even when he was a hitokiri he would never have bent to killing innocents for any intentor purpose, and that the Shinsengumi was blind not to have seen this. Instead, he closed his eyes for a split second, response neutral and impersonal.

"I see."

"Surely you would know why you are here among the Shinsengumi captains, then."

There was absolutely no beating around the bush; no attempt at concealing identities. The redheaded student could see this little interview as what it was now, an interrogation of three things: his identity as the hitokiri Battousai, his involvement in the two murder cases, and his intent of remaining in Tsutoki High at great personal risk – followed, undoubtedly, by a swift execution that he'd probably deserved anyway.

It was inevitable, though, that the Shinsengumi would be able to deduce his identity based on the murder cases, particularly that of Sanosuke's. Sanosuke, as the Miburo must know, was a rather close friend of Himura's; had always been seen in the redhead's company preceding the murder. Kenshin knew that he had been highly suspected by the Mibu wolves even without the incident; the violent death of Sagara would inevitably single him out in the eyes of the Miburo to a degree that there would be hardly any doubt about his true identity.

That was what the true culprit responsible for the murders wanted, wasn't it?

But to accuse him of murder simply because he was Battousai, the Shinsengumi's former enemy, and that the victims were killed by battoujutsu – the logic was fatally flawed, though understandable. And it _was_, undeniably, because of his presence that these murders had happened. It was nothing short of convenient to write these deaths off as the work of a notoriously known manslayer. He considered if it was the cause-and-effect cycle of karma that led him to this ironic situation, if it was a repayment for the numerous sins of his past. It was with an air of calm resignation that he faced his former quarries.

"I do. You want to ask about hitokiri Battousai – about me," he said, plainly. Further attempts at dissembling - when the Shinsengumi had exhibited so clearly that they _knew_ who he was - would be a form of cowardice. He would not forgo his honour in hopes of preserving his life.

At that admission, Kondo's eyes became darkly unfathomable; Saitou's fingers played lazily across the hilt of his katana. Kenshin took no notice of their reactions, eyes training straight ahead with the pride of a warrior ready to face his fate.

"You puzzle us in ways more than one, Himura Battousai-san." Okita's voice was quietly inquiring as he stared down at the sitting redhead, eyes uncharacteristically narrow as he assessed his foe.

" You knew that Tsutoki High is the lair of your sworn enemies; yet out of the many schools in the country, you chose to enroll into this particular one. You knew that you would be immediately recognized once you set foot here, yet you deem it safe to face us without weapons of any sort. If you are a spy from the government, then you are the most conspicuous one I have ever seen." A tilting smirk curled the young captain's lips as he surveyed his student coolly. "I'm afraid your actions do not make sense to me, Himura-san."

The redhead noted, absently, that smirking did not suit Okita well.

"There should be a reason, apart from your curiosity, that I am still sitting here alive, Okita gumi-chou." Kenshin countered levelly. Okita smiled faintly, an expression akin to approval flashing across chiseled features. Before he could interpret that expression, however, a derisive snort sounded at his right. The teenager turned to Saitou, who was leaning cross-armed against the office wall, narrow amber eyes trained directly at him. The katana was placed within easy reach of the lanky wolf; Kenshin had no doubt that if he tried anything funny, the blade would be out of its sheath and through his heart in a nanosecond.

"Such insolence, Battousai." Saitou raised a malicious brow at the boy, and was promptly met by a flat glare. "Personally, I don't care about what you think you are doing in our school – it makes no difference whether you are sent in by the government - but you are right on one point. There's something between you and the murders here that have our interest, and for this purpose, you will answer us."

_Or you die now. _

Kenshin said nothing, pondering the unspoken implication behind Saitou's words with a detachment that surprised even him. It occurred to him that whether he had decided to divulge information made little difference to his ultimate fate – he was the Miburo's arch nemesis, had crushed the old government that they had tried so hard to protect. He didn't expect the Shinsengumi to let him walk away unscathed. The prospect of imminent death moved him little; but since living on was his obligation to Hiko, the ex-Battousai knew that he could not allow himself to die now, meaninglessly.

"Go on."

"The murder of Sekihara is closely connected to that of Sagara's, as you should know very well. As the principal of this school, I will see to it that the deaths of our students are properly avenged. I would not let my school be menaced in any way." Kondo said softly. Kenshin tensed - he could see what Kondo was aiming at; the man's next words were already forming in his mind even without thinking.

"_On whose order are you murdering these students, hitokiri?" _

He thought of defending himself against the anticipated accusation, considered the point of doing so, and smiled faintly in self-mockery. Let the Shinsengumi assume what they wanted to; it would make little difference in the end anyway.

The next statement surprised him so much that he found himself staring open-mouthed at the schoolmaster, speechless.

"These murders are done in your name, Battousai. And, I should say, in a rather superficial fashion. It is of no coincidence that we are able to identify who you are – it has been revealed to us deliberately. Someone has been scheming behind our backs; and if he thinks that he can get away with it, he is sadly mistaken."

Kondo paused, eyes aflame with intensity as he read the astounded expression on the young man's face.

"So answer me, Battousai. You were absentfrom school yesterday – I want to know exactly where you have been."

* * *

Soujiro stole a look at his watch, careful to maintain a saddened look as befitting to the situation. Twenty-three minutes had passed and Himura had not returned. It came as little surprise to the raven-haired student – he'd known, as Himura was escorted out of the lab door, that the redhead was in for an interesting meeting with the Shinsengumi. 

He had to wonder why the wolves had decided upon a class announcement when dealing with Sagara's death. It seemed weird to him, somehow – he had expected them to keep this quiet; claiming, perhaps, that Sanosuke had decided to emigrate to Britain, South Africa, or whatever place that came to the Miburo's minds. It would even make sense to say that the rooster head had been kicked out of school due to his terrible conduct. They had certainly done so with the Sekihara twins – what made it different this time around?

_He watched, smiling, as Yumi made her move, pulling back her sleeve gracefully so that it would not sweep across the wooden board. Shishio contemplated the piece that Yumi had pushed towards him, head leaning heavily on one bandaged hand. _

"_These pawns are not moving fast enough for my liking," the burnt man decided, tapping the board with his knuckles. "It seems, now, that we are in a practical stalemate."_

_This statement elicited a small smile from Yumi and a nod from Houji, but then Shishio laughed; a short, unpleasant sound that had his subordinates looking up in confusion. _

"_Checkmate, Yumi." He lazily slid a piece forward, grinning at the startled look on his lady's face. It was apparent, by the look on her face, that she had not anticipated such an abrupt defeat. Greatly interested, Soujiro leant forward to examine the finished game._

_Shishio looked vaguely amused as he watched his three henchmen gather around the board, each exhibiting different degrees of awe. "When the pawns refuse to move by themselves, it's up to you to move them in a dramatic fashion."_

_His blood-red eyes were on Soujiro.

* * *

_

Feeling the intangible sensation of being watched, Soujiro tilted his head sideways; his gaze met with that of Shinomori Aoshi's before both turned away in unison. Those ice blue eyes, sharp and analyzing and so obviously _knowing_, brought a smug feeling to his mind.

"_In chess, there are always pawns that consider themselves players of the game. It isn't until the end of the game that they realize what they truly are – worthless sacrifices that allow the player to achieve his victory." Picking up a chess piece, Shishio sneered at it; the wood smoked under his overheated fingers. _

"_And now, Soujiro, I believe that our chess game is fast reaching its climax."_

Ducking his head to face the workbench, Seta Soujiro allowed himself a tiny smirk.


	9. Revelation

**Final Chess Piece by Hitokiri-san**

**A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! Oh well, this is a good time as any to post up a new chapter. My Christmas holidays are not actual "holidays" in any sense, since I am expected to do more studying than any human being ever should. Screw Hong Kong's exam system. Anyway, I present to you: FchP Chapter 9!**

**

* * *

**_It is truly incredible, a human being's ability to adapt to changes. Given a few days on the battlefield, a soldier will grow immune to the sight of flowing blood, the sound of incessant gunfire. Given a year in the shelter of peace, however, an ex-soldier will find himself astonished at the sight of violence. For further proof, just ask any veteran._

…_Just ask me.

* * *

_

**Chapter 9 Revelation**

_He raised the cup to his lips, carefully pondering the other's request. The beverage rippled with the movement - green tea, slightly too mild for his liking, though he wouldn't voice the comment aloud. He frowned. It had more to do with the absurd demand than the tea's lacking flavour._

"_I don't understand." He said finally, the slight crease on his forehead the only sign of his bafflement. "Why go undercover when we have perfectly utilizable allies in the school? The Shinsengumi - " _

_He was cut off bluntly, much to his surprise. The other boy usually had more patience than this._

"_The Shinsengumi is no longer, as you say, "utilizable". We lost command the moment we lost the war, that is the heart of it all. We can no longer offer them wealth and status for their services…the Mibu wolves are, therefore, no longer mine to command." His companion smiled; to him it looked more like a compulsive jerking of the lower lip. "Should I expect any less, though?"_

_He set down the drink deliberately, as was typical of his character. He was calm, calculating, logical; the voice of reason in the midst of chaos. "Kondo-san has always been devoted to the lord. I doubt that altered circumstances would have shaken his loyalty. Going unnoticed by the government is difficult enough, there's no point in complicating the situation further by trying to deceive the Miburo as well. We need allies on our side."_

_His argument - sound as it was - went ignored. Eyes darkening, the other boy glared down at the carpet, anger now apparent in his voice._

"_They failed the very person they had sworn to protect. This alone proves how _useless _they are, how _limited_ their loyalty is. No more objections, my friend. I place my faith in you alone – will you do it for me?" _

_In another time, he would have pointed out the numerous flaws in his friend's logic. He would have pointed out that the plan was entirely rooted in bitter rage and the desire for revenge, that the boy was letting raw emotions get the better of him. _

_Looking into the pain-ridden, haunted eyes__, however, he found that reason no longer had a stand in this situation. All he could do was incline his head, nodding his grudging acceptance of the request made of him. He would obey, not because he approved of the plan in any way, but because he had already failed once. He could not bear to disappoint his friend again._

_In another time, he would never have let Tokugawa Yoshinobu die.

* * *

_

Aoshi smoothed the cuff of his lab coat with his palm absently, going down the mental hierarchy of potential dangers in his mind. Soujiro, Kondo, Hijikata. They were all treacherous in their own right; dealing with all three together was a nightmare he'd rather avoid, given a choice.

Both he and Soujiro had conceded that glancing across the lab at each other – however briefly - was likely to attract unwanted attention from the two Miburo. Neither was willing to risk the consequences; too much was on the line for either of them. The two teenagers settled for fixing their gazes at the lab's equipment, each deep in their own thoughts. A temporary truce, made out of sheer necessity. It didn't change the fact that they were still a dire threat in each other's mind.

A few more students - apart from Himura, of course – had been escorted out of the lab, if only for appearance's sake. Aoshi didn't know where they'd gone, and didn't particularly care. He could feel the class' restlessness practically radiating off in waves. Not that he could blame them – the kids had been ordered to stay put for forty minutes straight with the knowledge that someone was killed in their midst. Nervousness was a given; he should be surprised that no one had gone into hysterics, though a hysterical student might actually manage to distract the Miburo quite nicely. The lanky boy smoothed his cuff again as he registered Kondo's presence at the front bench. He had somehow missed the man's return to the room, which _was_ a very grave lapse indeed. He must have been too distracted by Soujiro's presence to notice. His former – and very much deceased - comrades would probably have a field day knowing that their Okashira had zoned out amidst hostile company.

Aoshi snorted mentally, guiding his thoughts back to the situation at hand. He did not need others to remind him of his failing, dead people or otherwise. His ice-blue eyes flickered to Kondo.

_Why_ was Kondo here in the first place, though? Battousai was important, overtly so. To the Shinsengumi, he was a possible spy from the government and a source of valuable information. Surely such a target would deserve the undivided attention of the Commander. Why would Kondo wander up to watch over a couple of bewildered science students when his presence was required in whatever place Battousai was held in?

Unless, Aoshi thought coolly, Kondo had found a bigger threat in this very lab. A second murder in the school – right under the Shinsengumi's nose, no less – was trespassing way too far into the wolves' territory. Wounded pride alone would compel the once-warriors to take drastic actions in digging out the murderer.

Personally, he would like to see them try. Having them try it_ here_ and _now_, however, was not a notion he favoured. He knew that Kondo's decision to return to the lab implied one important thing – that the Shinsengumi had figured out something entirely unrelated to the true identity of Himura Kenshin, and were here to follow up on their realization. This did not bode well for either of them. One of them – or both, if they were unfortunate enough – would not be able to get out of this place without having to face the Miburo's interrogation first.

He risked a neutral glance at the general direction of Soujiro, analyzing. The boy was no one's fool; he would have reached the same conclusion as Aoshi did by now. So the question that remained was: could they worm out of the current situation, unscathed and undetected?

Feeling a brush against his senses, the former Oniwabanshu looked up. Kondo had risen out of his perch on the wooden stool, and was now weaving his way across the nervous groups clustered around their workbenches. Hijikata followed, trailing at his side like a silent guardian. With rising apprehension, Aoshi realized that they were, in fact, coming in_ his_ direction. So much for the vague hope that they'd bother Soujiro instead. He straightened slightly, feeling the cool blades strapped onto his back, deftly concealed in the cover of his jacket. Kondo stopped before him, eyes looking down in the same sympathetic look he'd given Kenshin. Aoshi thought for a split second before replying with a look of guiltless perplexity.

He could fight his way out of here, if need be. But until then, he was going to play innocent as best as he could. Battousai got himself into a tight spot by being overly impulsive; he was not going to repeat that mistake anytime soon.

"Shinomori, it's your turn."

He nodded quietly, weighing possible scenarios in his head as he stood. He had a plan to follow, and minor interruptions were not going to change it.

His thoughts were cut short as the lab lights overhead blinked off abruptly, throwing the room into darkness. Startled, the lab's occupants looked up to the ceiling…

_BOOM!_

…just as pieces of plaster and wiring rained down from above, eliciting frantic screams from the students. They fled, the way ants did when they sensed a forthcoming storm; pushing others out of the way, they headed for the exit, tripping over various fixtures as they did so.

An explosion. And judging from the far-off bangs of bombs detonating around the school, the word should be in plural form. Aoshi took a quick sweep of the room. Soujiro was nowhere to be seen, as were a couple of other students; Kondo and Hijikata were halfway across the room, trying to locate the source of the catastrophe.

The ceiling was crumbing above him. Sensing the danger, he sprung from his position, raising a bemused brow as the stool he had been standing against cracked under the debris' weight. Had it been anyone else, the collapse of the ceiling would have been fatal. Shards of glass, no doubt coming from their lab equipment, exploded across the room like mini fireworks; not enough to kill, but more than sufficient to cut and maim. The teenager raised an arm to shield his eyes, retreating to the window behind him.

The teenagers were still screaming, their shouts jarring against Aoshi's eardrums. Some small part of him was concerned at his classmates' plight. They didn't deserve to be included in this disaster, these innocents. They had nothing to do with grievances that should long have been past.

The sentiments were, however, entirely unrelated to his job and therefore none of his business. His eyes swept through the rapidly deconstructing room again. The other person was not there; he had slipped out of the room the moment danger arose.

Aoshi's lips quirked up in a cold smirk. How intelligent of him, being able to sense the oncoming danger and react accordingly.

Assured, Aoshi turned back to his task. Making use of the Miburo's preoccupation, he vaulted over the windowsill, lab coat flaring upwards as he freefell down the building's exterior.

As he landed in a crouch three floors below, the dust billowing out from under him, a single thought dominated his mind.

As far as he knew,_ explosions _were not something included in the plan.

* * *

Himura was being difficult. 

It was interesting, how he had automatically likened Battousai's stubbornness to a student's sullen tantrum. The notion of Battousai being young and petulant had never quite crossed his mind before; it seemed that, like the common people of Kyoto, he'd stereotyped Battousai as the standard manslayer – a cold, ruthless killing machine that considered lives, including his own, worthless. A miscalculation on his part; a man of his intelligence should really have known better.

He should have realized that Battousai was an annoying, headache-inspiring brat.

Okita sighed, trying not to snap at the teenager in irritation. Such a childish act would be highly unbecoming of him. As far as he was concerned, this little interrogation session was going nowhere. The few questions they'd asked had put Battousai on the defensive, and hence the current predicament.

"Why are you in Tsutoki High in the first place, Battousai-san?"

This question was, as he soon realized, an utter mistake. Battousai had looked at him as though he were an idiot; and when he answered, his tone was deadpan. "To get an education."

"Right," the younger Miburo gritted his teeth, torn between an urge to smack his forehead and another urge to draw his katana and be done with the cheeky brat. "Try again."

Perhaps the most frustrating thing about this situation, Okita realized, was that they had little to threaten Battousai with. The boy was entirely unimpressed with the prospect of bodily harm, which came as little surprise to the two captains. He was trained to be a professional killer, after all, and professional killers tended to value their lives the way kamikaze pilots valued theirs.

Okita was starting to think that keeping the ex-hitokiri alive was more trouble than it was worth. Of course, he preferred Battousai alive – corpses had precious little to say where interrogations were concerned – but he _could_ kill him. Battousai had wronged the Shinsengumi enormously, had even caused them to lose the civil war in the end. They had a good reason for wanting to kill him - past grievances alone could have spurred them to make the kill.

Except that revenge had never been the theme of the Miburo's lives. Revenge had not been their cause for fighting against the patriots – they had done it primarily because it was _right_, not because they hated the Ishin shishi and wanted revenge for their fallen comrades.

The civil war started because the Ishin shishi and the Bakufu forces held different ideals, and both parties were willing to give their lives for it. The civil war ended because the Ishin shishi was stronger and eventually won out.

It was as plain as that, and they understood it well. In a world of chaos, _good_ and _evil_ simply did not apply.

Himura was a dangerous manslayer, responsible for the death of many of his comrades. Himura had killed Tokugawa Yoshinobu. But despite all this, Okita was _not _going to kill Battousai out of revenge. The blade of a Miburo was pledged to eradicate evil; to use it for revenge would undermine its original purpose.

That, however, didn't mean he would let the ex-hitokiri go unharmed if he insisted on keeping this stunt up. He had a schedule to keep, and answers to deliver.

The boy was leaning back, expression blank, elbows perched on the sides of the chair. He was pointedly avoiding either Miburo's eyes, the way students did when they didn't know the answer to the teacher's question.

"You are seriously trying my patience, Battousai." Saitou said, voice deceptively soft. He leaned on the principal's desk, one lanky leg crossed over the other, and stared down at the indifferent face. "Do you assume that if you keep silent long enough, we would eventually spare your life and let you go? How cowardly of you."

Kenshin glared behind carnelian bangs, wary and exasperated. Finally, some reaction. Saitou leaned in closer, growling lowly as he held the violet gaze.

"Let me remind you again. Sagara is killed because of you - you have caused the death of an innocent simply by being _here_. The least you could do is to help us bring justice to the culprit." Something vaguely vulnerable flashed across Battousai's countenance, but the boy did not avert his eyes. The tall Miburo pushed off from the desk, nearly face to face with the boy. "I will say it one last time, Battousai. _Speak_."

"I _told_ you I don't know! How many times do I have to repeat it, Saitou? I have no idea who is impersonating me, why he is doing it or why he had to choose Sano." Kenshin's voice wavered slightly before he pressed on, crossing his arms in a show of defiance. "I cannot provide you with any useful information, and you probably know it. What, pray tell, is the point of this interrogation?"

"You know more than you let on, don't try to deny it," Saitou countered, snarling. "You hold information vital to our investigation, yet you…"

He would have further shoved the boy's fault into his face, if not for a sudden cloud of dust and concrete particles that choked off his next words. Saitou was thrown to the wall, his back connecting with the vertical surface with a resounding thud. Disoriented, he strained his eyes towards the source of the unannounced disaster. The wall opposite him, he saw now, had exploded inwards under the force of the blast, jagged cement framing a gaping hole like a jack-in-the-box popped open - except that no clowns had sprung up through the hole.

He looked down. Both his arms were sporting scratches and bruises, courtesy of the flying fragments, and he couldn't really feel his back. Apart from these minor injuries, he was mostly all right. It was something of a surprise, however, to see his katana secured in his right fist – he must have grabbed it, subconsciously, in the moment of frenzy. His sword before his life. He sure had an interesting way of arranging his priorities.

His eyes scanned across the disaster area, looking simultaneously for ally and prey. Okita, it seemed, had been thrown behind the principal's desk; looking slightly dazed but otherwise unharmed. The younger captain raised a hand in sardonic greeting, dark eyes alert and searching. Ensured that his fellow Miburo was fine, Saitou's gaze snapped back to the other end of the room, just in time to see a blue-clad figure emerging from behind a shattered bookshelf. Himura got quickly to his feet, quickly making for the new exit. Narrowed amber locked with wide amethyst at that moment, and Saitou growled menacingly.

"Oh no you don't, Battousai."

The wolf pounced, katana out of its sheath in a single fluid motion. However, Kenshin was anything but easy prey. Arm flashing out, he snatched the Miburo's wrist, the blade inches from severing his windpipe. His entire arm trembled with the effort of pushing the other man off – he did not have the brute strength that Saitou possessed, after all. Thinking fast, he elbowed the lanky man across the face with his other arm, sending him a few step backwards, stumbling. He used the moment of distraction to spin through the gigantic hole, intending to throw the homicidal captain behind.

Kenshin's breath caught in surprise as a body slammed at him from behind, bringing him flat to the ground. Realization dawned as he twisted his body to see his assailant better: in his hurry to escape, he had forgotten that Okita was even there. There was no time to dwell on the issue, anyway; Okita had snaked his arm around his neck in a millisecond, choking his air off in a painful headlock. He thrust his elbow backwards, catching the captain hard in the stomach. Taking advantage of the suddenly loosened grip, Kenshin slipped free, swiping Okita's legs out from under him for good measure. It was then he fled down the corridor, all resemblance of grace and composure forgotten.

He was faster than they were, he knew. He could probably lose them if he ran long enough – the campus was enormous, filled with rooms and staircases and corridors. He could not face the two captains simultaneously, without a weapon. But he _could _hide himself until it was safe, blend into dark corners like the shadow he had been trained to be. He was certain of that.

So why was he sprinting madly down the hallway, chest heaving, like a newborn doe chased by ravenous hyenas? His training must have deserted him, somewhere along the way. The Miburo were hot on his heels – thankfully out of sight, but only barely. He went around a corner, one hand bracing against the wall to brake his turn.

The teenager was momentarily astonished when a tug on his supporting hand caused him to lose his balance, falling sideways into secluded darkness. A pair of arms caught him gently; the door closed behind him with a soft, undetected click. He was ready to spring out of self defense, but the stranger promptly let go of him, making a soft hushing noise. Realizing the logic, Kenshin froze, hurriedly masking his ki as he waited with baited breath. Fortunately, Okita and Saitou continued past the shut door, the soft pattering of footsteps the only sign of their passing.

Slumping against the closed door – in relief or exhaustion, he really didn't know which – Kenshin struggled to catch his breath. What the hell? He had been perfectly calm throughout the whole ordeal, never flinching even in the face of Saitou's death threats. Then there was the explosion, and he had panicked as he struggled against the Shinsengumi for freedom. What did he have to fear anyway – death? Katsura would have been astounded by the mere idea. Hiko might have been pleased to know that his baka deishi had finally learnt something other than the art of self destruction.

And he himself – did he honestly fear the notion of death? _Yes_, the ex-hitokiri recognized now. He had feared death as he beheld the blade, mere inches away from his throbbing artery. He had feared death as he found his windpipe squeezed, leaving him gasping for air.

He didn't want to die; and his fear of death had sparked his survival instincts. The fact was that he was no longer the emotionless hitokiri a year ago. Kenshin raised a brow at this profound revelation. Did it mean that he'd changed for the better?

"Uh…Himura-san?"

The voice was unexpectedly small and shy, piquing his curiosity immediately. If he didn't know better, he would say that the stranger – whoever he was – was having second thoughts about approaching him.

Kenshin squinted slightly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the pit blackness of the room. He was extremely adept at seeing things in the dark, since he practically thrived in darkness. Already he could discern a mop and a bucket in his peripheral vision – a store room, then, and a small one at that. His eyes finally focused on the face across him, mouth hanging open as he realized just _who_ he was staring at.

"Kiyosato-kun," he said slowly, the tentative smile from his companion puzzling him further. "What on earth are you doing here?"


End file.
